Circumstantial Consequence
by Tarantella
Summary: Somber Resplendence Sequel:: After a bloody betrayal, Alycie and Murtagh are taken captive by the traitors. They struggle to survive as they are dragged across the Hadarac to Urû'baen. But the desert holds more than just sand this time. MurtaghOC
1. The Scum and the Stone

**Disclaimer: Don't own _Eldest_.**

**Well, this is for all you loyal reviewers out there! I was seriously going to wait until I got my other stories updated to start this up, but I couldn't resist. And I needed help with the other things::**

**IF ANYONE IS BRITISH OR HAS GOOD KNOWLEDGE OF BRITAIN, PLEASE CONTACT ME! I need references for _Darkest Hour_.**

**Anywho, starting off with a little filler. Did anyone miss Garrick? I did!**

**This story will probably be updated slower than it's prequel, just a warning.**

**I'd like to thank 30 Seconds to Mars for inspiration for the title along with inspiration for a character!  
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"Rise and shine you scum!" came a gruff yell. "This is the day your suffering begins, lads! I'd sorely 'ate for ye ter miss it!"

Garrick sat up in his small, dirty tent. His eyes blearily took in the cold fog that hung low above the ground outside as he crawled out into the mud and stood, wiping his hands off on his dirty pants. For weeks he had been training in Urû'baen and for weeks had he suffered the beatings of officers and the snide remarks of the stronger trainees. Garrick was lucky enough to avoid being one of their main targets for abuse.

"Line up, you scum of Alagaësia! Worms an' maggots! Tha's what you are! Tha's what you are in this Empire! All the same! No' one of you is special an' no' one of you is goin' ter get special treatment! If you wan' ter make yer way in this world, yer goin' ter have ter figh' for it!" shouted the Commander. Garrick sighed, lining up next to the other men and straightening.

The Commander walked up and down the line of men, pausing every now and then to shout in one's face. Some flinched and received extra shouts. Garrick knew better. He knew that this was only in training that the commanders were so loud and degrading. It was all a test. And if you failed you had to suffer it longer. The Empire tolerated no failures.

"Wha' do ye say ter tha', leech!?" shouted the Commander, stopping in front of Garrick and facing him. "I know wha' yer thinkin'!" He put on a mocking, high-pitched voice. "_'Oh, wha's my purpose in this army? Wha's the Empire ever done fer me?'_ Well wha's yer answer, leech!?" Garrick felt the spit flying from the man's mouth onto his face. He met his infuriated eyes calmly, opening his mouth.

"To follow orders, sir," he said calmly. The Commander's eyes narrowed and his face grew nearer to Garrick's.

"Wha' did you say, leech?" he asked in a deadly voice. Garrick looked him straight in the eye and raised his voice.

"Our purpose in the army is to follow orders, sir," he said in a strong voice that carried throughout the line. The Commander glared at him for a minute straight. Garrick stared back, not blinking once. Finally the Commander laughed, smacking Garrick on the shoulder.

"Now tha's more like it!" he shouted. "Leech, 'ere, 'as the idea! Now all o' you scumbags remember tha'! Yer purpose in this army is to follow orders! If ye question or don' fulfill, then say goo'bye to yer scummy li'l lives! Now line up to be groomed, men!"

The line of trainees turned sharply, marching to the end of the encampment. Garrick let out a silent sigh of relief. Not all of his fears had been quelled by his calm façade. The Commander barked the order and every trainee bowed, staring at the ground. Soldiers stepped forward with daggers and cut away their hair. Garrick watched his long tresses fall upon the muddy ground and his eyes hardened. If this would be his life now, then he would live it proudly as a soldier of the Empire.

_'And if I'm to find Alycie, it will be as a soldier,'_ he thought bitterly. _'A soldier hunting her to bring her to the king.'_

The soldiers straightened as one and Garrick ran a hand over his newly shaven head, rolling his neck to adjust to the lightness of his skull. The sound of metal scraping against metal sounded behind them and they turned to see the graduated soldiers carrying red-hot branding irons.

Garrick heard several soldiers gasp and saw many gulp in apprehension. He did neither. Instead, he turned, exposing the back of his neck to the poker willingly. His greenish-blue eyes fixed on a stone in the middle of the muddy ground in front of him. He would grow hard like that stone, cold to the surrounding world. Like a soldier.

The red-hot pain blossomed over his neck and his teeth clenched. Screams and shouts of men echoed around him as his fellows met the same fate, but he remained silent. Silent like a stone.

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	2. The Offer and the Ambush

**Disclaimer: Don't own _Eldest_.**

**Again, Brits, contact me! Thank you.**

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Three days.

They had been roaming the tunnels for three days. Ajihad, the Twins, Murtagh, Alycie, five soldiers, and ten dwarves had ventured into the dwarves' labyrinth of tunnels to hunt down the surviving Urgals from the attack on Farthen Dûr, the great mountain that housed the rebellion force of the Varden.

Ajihad had requested that the Twins accompany him because they were the most powerful beings in the Varden, aside from Eragon, the Dragon Rider, or Arya the elf. They had remained in Tronjheim to help with the healing that was needed.

Murtagh had asked to join the force tracking the Kull because he was eager to prove himself trustworthy to the Varden's leader. Being the son of the most hated being in all of Alagaësia, Morzan, the first and last of the Forsworn, Murtagh had suffered prejudice and torment during his first days with the Varden. Now he would be redeemed in the eyes of the heroes of Alagaësia. The rest of the heroes anyway.

Murtagh had already redeemed himself in the eyes of three beings. One was Eragon the Rider, whom he had rescued from a Ra'zac attack. The second was Saphira, the great, blue, wise dragon that shared a mind link with Eragon. And the third was Alycie, Murtagh's one and only love.

Said love was currently locked in Murtagh's embrace, feeling his hand stroke her light brown hair and his lips kiss her face. She twitched as he unknowingly applied a hard pressure against her bruised skull. When she had regained the majority of her strength, Alycie had used her newfound magical ability to heal the rest of her chest wounds where an Urgal had driven a hammerspike nearly clear through her. Now all that was left as a memorial was a small, light, jagged scar on her chest. Her head wound had been left to heal on its own and now was only a light painful reminder of the battle. Alycie broke away, turning her bright blue eyes to look down the tunnel carved into the rock.

"We have to go before we fall too far behind," she said. "I can't believe we're almost back home."

"Home..." repeated Murtagh thoughtfully. "Tronjheim isn't really home."

"Then what is?" asked Alycie. Murtagh smiled at her.

"Wherever you are," he said, kissing her. Alycie smiled and stood. She had to crouch, as the tunnel was constructed by and made for dwarves, who stood considerably shorter than average humans.

"I love you," said Alycie, looking at Murtagh.

"I love you too," he replied, leaning in for yet another kiss. Alycie dodged him and began to run down the tunnel after the Varden soldiers. Murtagh followed close behind.

They went as fast as they could through the winding tunnel, soon catching up with the line of Varden. Two soldiers, a human and a dwarf, glanced back as they slowed to a walk, grinning. The old man shook his head, looking from Alycie to Murtagh, his gaze somewhat disapproving. The dwarf merely eyed Murtagh warily. They turned back around. Alycie looked at Murtagh sympathetically. He smiled at her, but she could see the shadow behind his eyes.

The men in front of them suddenly parted and Ajihad appeared, bent over to fit into the tunnel as well. Alycie and Murtagh inclined their heads briefly in respect. The leader of the Varden glanced at Alycie, and then looked at Murtagh with his dark eyes.

"Murtagh, you have assisted me greatly in these past days. You have shown respect, obedience, and have never raised a question against me. You have also shown determination and loyalty to the Varden. You have proven yourself. I trust you," the ebony-skinned man said in a deep voice. Murtagh inclined his head once more.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"From now on you shall be known as a friend to the Varden and an ally to our forces." He turned to Alycie. "Though I did not require your services on this hunt, they are appreciated, although it was foolish for you to begin activity again so soon after such a severe injury." Alycie opened her mouth to argue, but she caught Murtagh's eye and closed it, nodding simply. Ajihad now addressed them both. "If you still have a wish to leave our cities, we will discuss the possibility once we are safely back into the city." Their eyes widened.

"You will consider letting us go to Surda?" asked Alycie. Ajihad nodded.

"You've both earned my trust, and if you are in Surda there is a much smaller risk of the Varden's' secrets being revealed." He turned to Murtagh. "But I won't let you leave unless you are probed." Murtagh shook his head.

"I stick by my word when I say I will not let the Twins--"

"I did not say it would be the Twins," said Ajihad. He looked at Alycie. "I hear from Angela and Eragon that your ability to communicate with others with your mind has progressed since you arrived."

"Yes," said Alycie. "Are you saying that I am to probe him?"

"If he wishes to leave," said Ajihad, turning to Murtagh. Alycie looked at him as well. His silver eyes met hers.

"...I...I'm not sure at the moment," he said.

"Then the decision will be made when we arrive in the city," said Ajihad. "And that won't be anytime soon if we keep stopping." He turned and walked back through the line of men to the front. They began to walk once more.

"You don't want me in your mind?" asked Alycie.

"Would you want me in yours?" asked Murtagh.

"I see," said Alycie.

"I'm considering it, though," said Murtagh. Alycie nodded.

Nearly twenty minutes passed until they reached the mouth of the tunnel. Ajihad, the Twins, and the soldiers all hopped out into the huge hallway that led into Farthen Dûr. Murtagh jumped to the ground from the height of the tunnel, reaching back up to assist Alycie in her descent.

She looked around. A light was visible at the far end of the colossal tunnel and several small black figures besides a larger one represented the waiting forms of Arya, Orik, Eragon, Saphira, and several other Varden. Ajihad raised his hand and shouted an order to the men. They formed two straight lines behind him in the hallway. Murtagh and Alycie joined at the front of the lines. Another order was called and the soldiers straightened. They began to march towards the light.

A roar suddenly echoed around the rock walls and before anyone could react, massive dark figures had poured out of the side tunnels, raising weapons and bringing them down on the soldiers in the back of the lines. Alycie felt Murtagh's arm around her in an instant and heard him draw his hand-and-a-half sword, jaw set. She grabbed her own blade and held it at the ready as someone yelled "Urgal!" before being cut down by the monsters.

The remaining soldiers, the Twins, Murtagh, and Alycie backed up defensively, crowding around Ajihad in an attempt to protect him. The vast numbers of Urgals converged on them and they began to fight for their lives. Alycie slit an Urgal's throat and watched him fall, moving on to the next creature. She felt her adrenaline speed through her veins. They were winning. She hadn't been hit yet. She began to strike harder.

Something was wrong. She couldn't see suddenly. Someone pulled her back from the Urgal she was attempting to hit through the sudden mist that surrounded them. She squinted, trying to see. Her free hand groped around. It met another hand and grasped it, but the arm pulled down suddenly and the hand slipped from her grasp, the owner falling dead to the stone ground. She took several small steps backwards, breathing hard as her eyes darted around in fear.

The mist cleared and she whirled around. Every last soldier was dead. Only Ajihad, the Twins, and Murtagh remained standing by her. At the end of the tunnel, she could just make out the growing figure of Saphira flying at top speed towards them. Then an Urgal obstructed her view. Two Urgals. Three. They encircled them, forming a wall of dark skin, black hair, and horns.

Ajihad swung his blade at the Urgals, killing several with one swing. Alycie blocked a few blows and struck down two Urgals in front of her. A cry sounded and she turned sharply. Ajihad lay on the ground, suffering blow after blow from the blade of an Urgal who stood over him. But the Urgal wasn't the only one attacking him.

Alycie's wide, frightened eyes moved to the Twins. Their hands were pointed at Ajihad and they were muttering word after word, watching as light emitted from their palms, striking Ajihad's armor and making him cry out in pain. Beside Alycie, Murtagh was looking on in horror as well. He let out a roar of anger and threw himself at the Twins, brandishing his sword.

A Twin held up his hand and spat a word. Murtagh was halted in midair. The other Twin walked over, disarming Murtagh and holding the hand-and-a-half sword up to his chest. He paused, taking in Murtagh's defiant expression, and then snapped his fingers. An Urgal stepped forward and tore Murtagh's clothes from his torso, leaving his chest exposed to the blade. The Twin smirked and cut into his skin, making a long, bleeding cut. Murtagh didn't cry out, but Alycie could see a vein pulsing in his neck as he clenched his teeth against the pain. The other Twin stepped forward and took the clothes from the Urgal, mopping up Murtagh's blood with them and handing them back to the Urgal. The Twin holding Murtagh's sword snapped his fingers once more and the Urgal lifted his mace, striking Murtagh on the back of the head. He went limp.

"NO!" screamed Alycie.

The Twins looked at her in rage. One of them muttered something unintelligible and the Urgals surrounding her raised their weapons all at once. She lifted her sword to block, but it flew out of her hands suddenly. The last thing she saw was the Twin with his hand outstretched towards her and the Urgal's studded mace falling onto her head. Her vision blacked out and she felt her skull and body hit the floor.

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	3. The Premonition and the Pain

**Disclaimer: Don't own _Eldest_.**

**Yay for reviews! There's the last update you'll get for a while, so enjoy it!**

**Thank you to all the Brits who replied to my questions! You have been most helpful!  
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_Soldiers. Rows upon rows of soldiers marched in blocks that stretched for a mile in each direction, all heading south. A lone figure rode ahead of the vast army, dressed in black armor that was painted with white marks of war. His horse was black as well, with metal spikes set into rings that encircled its hooves. The black captain held his sword at the ready. Deep maroon shadows covered the blade; the blood from every victim that had fallen prey to its steely cold bite._

_The helmeted head of the man looked up suddenly as a horrific roar pierced the silence. A great, ruby dragon landed on the sand in front of the army. Red lights danced all around as the shine of the setting sun reflected off of the garnet scales that covered the reptilian creature. A man dressed in shining armor dismounted the dragon and walked towards the black soldier. An ordinary hand-and-a-half sword hung at his side, but the reflections off of his dragon's scales nearly made the blade look a deep red color._

_"What is your business, Rider?" demanded the black knight boldly. Some of the men standing behind him exchanged looks of worry._

_"My business is the king's," responded the ruby dragon's Rider calmly._

_"As is mine," said the captain, "and you are hindering it! Now move your dragon!"_

_"The king has requested that you return to Urû'baen. He has a job for you."_

_"Who is to lead the army, then?" asked the captain._

_"I have orders to do so," said the Rider._

_"You? You've been locked in the palace for the past half of this year and you suddenly think you can emerge as the great leader of an army?"_

_"The king seems to think so," said the Rider coolly. The black captain raised his bloodstained sword._

_"The king be damned!" he shouted, digging his heels into his horse's sides. The steed galloped forward, panting as it gained speed. The Rider did not bat an eyelash as he calmly faced the man and horse charging towards him. The red dragon let out a roar suddenly and the Rider raised his hands._

_"_Jierda_!" he said in an almost bored voice. The captain fell from his horse, clutching his chest and taking deep, rasping breaths. he lay on his back, doubled over in pain. A hand rose shakily to his black, metal helmet and he pulled it off, rolling over and coughing horribly. Blood spattered out onto the hard, dusty ground._

_The Rider swaggered over, looking down at the broken man who now lay at his feet. He crouched down to his level, watching the man with an unblinking gaze._

_"You are a bold man," he said. "But foolishly rash. Cross me again in future and I will waste no time in killing you where you stand. Do you understand me?"_

_"Not sure I do," muttered the injured captain, clutching his ribs as he lay with his head in the dust. The Rider cocked his head to the side._

_"Look at me when you speak, _captain_," he ordered. The warrior turned his face to the Rider, licking at the blood that trickled out of the corner of his mouth._

_"Not sure I do understand you, sir," he mocked. The Rider shook his head in disbelief._

_"You must have a death wish," he said._

_"So I hear," replied the captain in a cocky tone. The Rider shot to his feet suddenly, staring down at the man. The captain braced himself for an attack, but the tall figure had stiffened, almost as if stunned. They didn't take their eyes off of each other as the Rider's breathing became more and more audible._

_"Stop...Stop looking with those...with those eyes..." said the Rider in a strained, nearly frantic voice._

_"What? Would you like me to use my spares?" asked the captain incredulously. The Rider put a hand to his head, turning around and walking a few paces, muttering to himself. The captain watched him, his expression growing troubled._

_Without warning, the Rider turned on his heel and dove at the man on the ground, bringing his armored fist down on the man's face, pounding again and again..._

Alycie awoke sharply, screaming at the pain in her face. Someone yelled something and a large, blunt object bashed into her stomach. She tried to hold her stomach, but her hands were tied behind her back, as were her feet. She opened her eyes.

She was alone. Urgals stood guard around the small campsite ten yards away, but she was alone. One of the Urgal guards was walking away from her and she realized it was the one that had kicked her. Fear suddenly wrapped its icy hands around her throat as flashes of memory sparkled in her mind's eye. Ajihad lying near death on the floor of the tunnel. Urgals closing in on all sides. Murtagh floating in midair as the Twins cut him across the chest with his own sword.

Anger filled her. The Twins had betrayed them! They had allied with the Urgals and ambushed them in the tunnel. They had killed Ajihad. They had kidnapped her. They had kidnapped Murtagh...or killed him. She drew a shuddering breath as comprehension dawned on her. They had taken his clothes and covered them with his blood. It was a ruse! The Urgals had blocked the entire scene from view! The Varden would never know they were still alive. She looked down. Her jerkin and boots were gone. She surveyed her arm and saw a line of dried blood where a cut had been made through the sleeve. Her clothes were incredibly dirty. How long had she been captive?

A cry sounded from near the distant fire and Alycie felt her heart break at the agony that filled it. They had Murtagh. They were torturing him somehow. Another cry pierced the night and Alycie shut her eyes, feeling tears leak out from under the lids. The crack of a whip sounded, followed by a third cry. Alycie's sadness vanished and furious rage flared.

She thought around for a word, any word, as the light magic filled her mind. She was weak, but she could manage something.

"_Brisingr_!" she whispered. Immediately the ropes that bound her hands burst into amethyst flames, but they were extinguished as a wave of piercing pain shot up her arms, as if tens of thousands of tiny knives were jabbing her clear through to the bone. She cried out at the pain and felt a faintness envelope her body as the magic took its toll on her strength. She lay in the dirt, panting as the horrible pain receded. Her eyes opened a fraction.

"Oh how noble. The little girl tried to escape so she could rescue her little lover," came the voice of a Twin. They had heard her shriek and were walking over. She tried to move an arm, but the weakness was too great. The Twins stopped before her and she suddenly felt her body rise into the air. She hung vertical, wrists and feet bound, her head lolling to one side with the lack of strength. The Twins laughed.

"You think we would have merely bound you with ropes? No, we put those ropes under a spell. You can't use magic without suffering for it," said the other Twin. Alycie spat.

"You betrayed the Varden! You killed Ajihad!" she hissed in anger. The Twins cracked identical evil smirks.

"How very astute of you," said one.

"Alycie!" came a call. She looked around the Twins to see two Urgals holding a beaten and bleeding Murtagh by the arms. His face was hidden by filthy hair matted with blood and his chest was covered in blue and black marks accompanied by long, bloody scratches and cuts. He struggled against the Urgals' hold, but they tightened their grip and one punched him in the side of the face, hard. The Twins turned around.

"Murtagh, nice of you to join us," said the other Twin. "You're just in time to see your little whore pay for all the clever little remarks she's uttered to us." Alycie's eyes widened as she spotted a short stick with nine knotted strings hanging ominously from it in one of the Twins' hands. Murtagh spotted it as well. He began to thrash in the Urgals' grip harder than ever. A Twin held up a hand, pointing his finger at Alycie.

"Ah ah ah, Murtagh. Stop that thrashing. You wouldn't want my tongue to slip and utter a word that could prove fatal to her, now would you?" Murtagh stopped moving immediately, staring at the Twins in horror. They smirked at the power they held over him.

"Just as we thought," said the other Twin. They turned back to Alycie and she felt an invisible force manipulate her body so that her back was to the Twins. The shirt on her back tore and she shuddered as the material fell below her shoulders, leaving her scarred back exposed.

"No!" shrieked Murtagh in the Urgals' grip. "Please! Don't! Torture me! Kill me instead! Don't harm her!"

"Kill you?" asked a Twin. "Galbatorix would not be happy to have you turn up dead. No, he has plans for you, son of Morzan..."

"...but none for the little vixen!" finished the other Twin. In one swift movement he lifted the whip above his head and brought it down on Alycie's back with a horrible snapping noise.

Alycie clenched her teeth against the pain, but didn't cry out. It felt as if millions of swords were stabbing her at once. The whip struck again. More pain. Once more. Alycie could hold it no longer. She screamed in agony as the whip struck a fourth time. Her cry joined with Murtagh's protests as the whip continued to strike.

An hour of this torture passed. Alycie's voice finally died, along with her will. She felt the whip's stinging blows now penetrate the skin. Her blood now covered her back from the seeming millions of whiplashes she had suffered in the past sixty minutes. She stared at the ground, centered somewhere between pain and unconsciousness. Her gaze was dead and weak. There was no hope of escaping these madmen. She would be brought to the king and used against Murtagh until he bent to their will. The plots of one so evil and insane were not so hard to predict.

Alycie felt her sore limbs hit the ground with a thud. She tasted dust and blood as the Twins chuckled above her. Her eyes turned to the Urgals that held Murtagh. He was looking at the ground, his greasy hair hanging to hide his face. The Twins obstructed her view as they turned to the Urgals.

"Tie them up. Keep three of your kind on guard," they ordered. "As for you, son of Morzan, you will soon be home."

Their footsteps faded into the distance. There was an inhuman grunt and Alycie heard the sound of a body hitting the ground behind her. The two Urgals that had held Murtagh walked a short ways away and turned to keep watch over their human charges.

"Alycie..." came Murtagh's shaky voice. Alycie turned over, hissing in pain as her injured back came into contact with the earth. She ignored it. Murtagh lay on his side, facing her. His expression was of utmost sorrowful despair as his eyes met hers. She wiggled, inching towards him.

"Murtagh, are you alright?" she asked, ignoring her own pain.

"I can't believe you," he replied darkly. "You've been unconscious for the past week. I thought you'd gone into a coma! You wake up screaming, suffer an hour of torture, and want to know if_ I'm_ alright."

"I've been unconscious for a week?" asked Alycie. She looked around. "Where are we?"

"Almost to the Hadarac," said Murtagh with a grimace. "But I can't know for sure. All I know is that we passed the end of the Beartooth River two days ago. We are nearing the end of the valley."

"Has anyone come after us? The Varden, have they sent anyone?" she asked hopefully.

"No. They must have searched the tunnels for the Urgals at least, but none were found. The Twins left our bloody clothes in a ravine for them to find. If they haven't found those, they'll assume we're dead," said Murtagh.

"What about Eragon! He could scry us and find where we are!" exclaimed Alycie. Murtagh shook his head.

"The Twins have cast spells. He will see darkness if he tries to scry us."

"Then we are on our own?" asked Alycie. Murtagh nodded. Alycie shifted her arms and her hands grazed her back. She hissed as pain blossomed over her bloody skin. Pain showed in Murtagh's eyes.

"Can you heal yourself with magic?"

"The Twins cursed my ropes. I can't do magic," said Alycie. Murtagh swore, looking away.

"It's my fault you're here," he spat angrily. "It's all my fault. I should never have let you come on the hunt with me. I should never have fallen for the Twins' ruse as allies. I had a bad feeling about them the whole time. Why didn't I say anything? Why didn't I trust my instincts?"

"Murtagh, it's not your fault!" said Alycie strongly. Murtagh looked at her.

"Oh, what part of it isn't?" he asked. "We've been kidnapped because I am the son of a Forsworn! Because the King wants me! It's all because of me that we've been taken." Alycie didn't speak. To deny would be to lie. There was no contradiction. It was because of Murtagh. He looked down. "I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you because of this."

"Nothing is going to happen," said Alycie confidently. "We'll get through this. The King can't do everything. Power only goes so far." Murtagh looked at her incredulously.

"Your naivety is remarkable," he said. "Whatever the Twins do, the King will do ten times worse. He has powers you can't even imagine, Alycie. If we are brought to him, if we are taken into his palace in Urû'baen, there's no coming out unscathed."

"Then all we can do is wait for our fate to be decided by madmen?" asked Alycie.

"If we want to survive," said Murtagh.

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	4. The Captivity and the Condition

**Disclaimer: Don't own _Eldest_.**

**  
In honor of my upcoming B-day, I decided to update this story! I'll have to edit some after the third book is released, no doubt, but I missed Alycie and Murtagh so much that I don't care!**

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Misery. Utter misery. That, Alycie decided, was the only thing the past conscious days of travel could have been. She and Murtagh had been separated the dawn after Alycie's return to consciousness. The two of them had since been periodically switched between the custody of the Twins and the custody of the Urgals. They had only spoken through fleeting glances from afar. The term _afar_ here means over the bulky heads of some fifty Urgals and/or over a hundred meters or more in the dark of the campsite late at night.

The Twins' torture had continued. The absence of the other lover during the painful sessions did not deter their zest in striking down with the stinging whips. Alycie had learned to withdraw into herself to avoid the majority of the pain. It also helped to block out the snide remarks of the two bald traitors.

They had entered the Hadarac a few days before, sticking to the very edge of the desert. Of course Alycie was kept thirsty beyond belief. The Twins made a great effort to walk up to her with a bowl of water, bend as if to hand it to her, and then pour it out all over the hot, dry sand mere feet away. It had taken all of her resolve not to lick the liquid off of the ground. Or at least not until the Twins left.

Then there were the dreams. Almost every night now Alycie experienced the same dream, always waking to find her face throbbing as if the dark Rider had beat her personally. These had to be more than just dreams.

The next day found her running to keep from being dragged behind a rather nasty Urgal who held the end of a rope that was knotted around her wrists. This had been one of the Twins' brilliant plans to keep her miserable. It was working. The Urgal grunted and tugged on her rope again, causing her to stumble and nearly fall into the hot sand.

"Watch the jerking motions," she grumbled under her breath. The Urgal growled and jerked her harder. Her bare, rough feet, bloody from the hard days of walking, caught the sand and she fell, the sand immediately scraping against her side as the Urgal continued to drag her along. She shut her eyes against the sand hitting her face.

Without warning a sudden, unbearable pain pierced the back of her head, making her scream in agony. It was as if an Urgal had suddenly embedded the sharp end of a war hammer in her skull and was now pounding and twisting it in further. Stars erupted before Alycie's eyes as she writhed in pain. She wasn't even aware of the earth beneath her stopping and hands flipping her over as she shrieked against the pain.

"What is it?" snapped the cold voice of a Twin.

"She fell and started to scream," replied the grunt of an Urgal.

Alycie couldn't hear most of their words through her screams. She didn't register those that she did hear. The pain was setting her mind on fire, blinding her. She screamed louder as her vision flickered and faded. Her ears seemed to be bursting with agony from unheard sound.

_A dark haired man bent down to kiss the woman at his side. The light from the setting sun glinted off of her sandy-blonde hair._

_An armored figure bowed before a dark throne; a silent mountain as cold as the marble he knelt on._

_Grounds of a wasteland suddenly erupted into flame as two opposing forces of armed creatures met with the united clash of steel on steel._

_The blonde woman watched as the man lifted a bottle to his lips. Something stirred in the shadows and a mug fell to the floor and crashed to pieces. The man cried out in furious rage and drew his blood red sword. Short legs moved fast as a boy scampered towards the door. The woman's cry pierced the silence. The boy looked back over his shoulder and his light eyes widened as the blade met its mark._

Alycie shrieked as a searing pain blossomed over her back in a fiery bloom. Her spine arched involuntarily, pushing her ribcage into the air. Something hit her stomach and she doubled over, rolling to the side on the ground. Her eyes opened.

"What was that?" demanded the Twins. Alycie vaguely noted that it was nearing nightfall. The camp would be nearly set up now. A Twin kicked her again and she whimpered. "What did you do?"

The familiar sharp pain of a probe entering her mind seemed merely uncomfortable after the explosion of agony that had seized her for what seemed like years. It recalled still images of the visions back into her mind. Alycie could see them as clear as if they were in front of her own eyes. The probe retracted and Alycie closed her eyes, her head throbbing with the lasting pain.

"Get the boy," she heard a Twin order and the ground thumped with retreating Urgal footsteps. Alycie couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She was too tired. Oh if she could just go to sleep...

_A Rider of gold  
A city of old  
A raven crows riddles  
So secrets unfold_

"Alycie!" Her dear sweet Murtagh...

Alycie let out a cry as a Twin's foot made contact with her stomach. She heard the sharp breathing of her love a few feet away.

"What do you want?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Did you not know she was a seer?" demanded a Twin.

"What?" mumbled Alycie, opening her eyes. The Twins shot her a look of the purest loathing.

"You see visions! You foresee the future! All of our fates!" said one.

"And what if she can?" asked Murtagh spitefully. "What does that mean?" The Twins gave him a look of malevolence.

"Then the king might have use for her after all," said one. Murtagh's face turned hostile and he began to struggle harder than ever against the Urgals' hold. Alycie looked at him and she felt her heart tear in two.

Murtagh looked awful. His eyes were beaten dark purple and swollen so that the irises were barely visible. Dried blood and sand-ridden grime covered the naked skin of his face, arms, and torso and his feet were bruised and bloodied beyond recognition. Stretching over every inch of his skin was a bruise or a cut, discoloring and distorting his appearance. Alycie was horribly reminded of Arya when Eragon had exposed her skin for healing after the rescue. But still Murtagh's head was held high with an air of defiance as he watched the Twins.

"You bastards!" he spat.

"You should be thankful," said a Twin. "Now we have reason not to kill your little whore."

"The king can tell his own future himself! Any magic user can!" said Murtagh.

"That's where you're wrong, son of Morzan," said the Twins. "Any magic user can have visions, yes, but only in dreams and only a few. Seers see more frequently and at will in some cases. Besides, no Riders have ever been seers." They glanced maliciously at Alycie. "And who ever said it was his own fate he would be interested in? With her, he could spy on anyone, win any war, find any fugitive."

"And what if I don't cooperate?" asked Alycie, frowning. The Twins let out identical high, cold laughs.

"You really believe you control your fate in the king's hands?" they asked. "You must be stupider than we thought."

"I can't see on command!" protested Alycie. "They come and go at random! Besides, I don't understand them at all! They would be of no help to--"

"The king," interrupted a Twin, "has ways of channeling magic to bend to his wishes. You will serve him soon enough."

"How do you know that we'll even _reach_ the king?" asked Alycie, an idea springing into her head. The Twins frowned and looked down at her.

"Because there's no town for miles in every direction and you would be caught if you tried to escape," replied one.

"Something could happen," said Alycie in a superior tone. The Twins narrowed their eyes at her and she winced at the probe entering her mind. Damn, she'd forgotten their power.

"You're lying you little maggot," spat one, increasing the pressure of the probe. Alycie whimpered, but bit her tongue against the pain. Blood began to trickle from her mouth. Her teeth had broken the skin.

"STOP!" cried Murtagh. Alycie breathed sharply as the probe was withdrawn. The Twins turned their eyes to the Urgals holding him.

"Take him to the other side of the camp. Tie him to a stake and get the whips ready. Extra lashes tonight. The brother of our enemy deserves no better." Both Alycie's and Murtagh's eyes shot to the Twins.

"What are you babbling about?" demanded Murtagh rather boldly. The Twins smirked as if they knew something that no one else did, which was exactly the case.

"Oh, you don't know?" they asked, feigning surprise. Murtagh struggled against his holders once more.

"You tell me what you're talking about!" he ordered.

"You're in no place to be giving commands, boy!" snapped a Twin, holding out a hand and muttering a word. Murtagh fell back as if he'd been struck. The Twins straightened and considered him thoughtfully. "He never told you his mother's name, did he?"

"Who?" asked Murtagh, spitting blood. Alycie's eyes widened.

"Eragon!" she exclaimed in dawning comprehension. Murtagh looked at her in shock, then back at the Twins. They smirked.

"Selena, Selena," said one. "We probed his mind and there it was, locked in his childhood memories. The name of his mother, and, if we're not mistaken, _your_ mother as well."

"It's...but it can't...no..." said Murtagh, more to himself as he sank into thought. But it was apparent. He and Eragon were brothers.

"Why are you standing here?" asked the Twins, rounding on the Urgals. "Take him away!"

Alycie watched as her lover was hauled away by the monstrous beings. Her own mind was buzzing with the information she had just heard. It couldn't be...but...they were alike in many ways. Too many ways.

Her eyes flicked to the backs of the Twins' bald, shining heads.

_As the hammer falls  
So do the Twins_

A voice in her head speaking in riddles. Just what she needed. Though this didn't exactly seem like a riddle. The Twins rounded on her.

"We're not done with you yet," they said before turning and striding off across the campsite. Alycie watched them go, the words playing over and over in her head as she tried to decipher their meaning. _As the hammer falls...so do the Twins..._

Suddenly an arm wrapped around her head from behind and a hand clamped over her mouth.

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	5. The Fight and the Flight

**Disclaimer: Don't own _Eldest_.**

**Here's another update! And here's where all the OC's come in!**

**Wow, my first chapter posted after turning 15…awriiiiight!**

**56 reviews with four chapters! I'm…I'm speechless! Thank you all!**

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Alycie screamed into the hand. She kicked violently, struggling. Someone held her legs down. She was completely immobilized. She thrashed her body violently within the restraints, but to no avail. She screamed again and the hand tightened, preventing any sound.

"Don't struggle and we won't be forced to kill you," said a whisper in her ear. Alycie froze. She didn't doubt the voice. She heard the man say, "Good."

A surprised grunt sounded somewhere behind them. A brief and quiet sound of steel on steel accompanied by a sickening squelch and two thumps followed the grunt soon after. Alycie's eyes widened in fear as they stared up into the pitch black, starless night sky.

"Do not scream," continued the whisper in her ear, deep and even, as if it were speaking to a comrade. "Do not fight." Alycie forced her body to relax. "Give the signal," said the voice to, Alycie guessed, someone nearby. Footsteps retreated quickly and quietly away. Alycie noticed that the hands holding her feet had gone. All she could hear was the distant noise of the main camp and the steady breathing of the voice's owner.

Then it was pandemonium. Screams suddenly erupted from the campsite. Inhuman screams. They echoed in Alycie's ears, making her skin shiver with a cold chill. A crackling sound such as fire was audible in the background.

"Come with us," said the voice, and Alycie's mouth was released. Hands grasped her under her arms and helped her to her feet. As they let go, however, her knees buckled with weakness and she fell back to the ground. One of the men lifted her about the waist and slung her over their shoulder. Alycie's eyes widened.

The campsite was ablaze. Long tongues of flame licked every tent and several Urgals could be seen running about with their long, filthy, black hair burning and smoking. The remaining Urgals were engaged in combat. Alycie squinted at the offenders.

The force attacking the campsite consisted of a very small group of men fighting with strangely curved swords, daggers, and a few fought with weapons Alycie had never seen before. They were dressed in dark clothing and every face was concealed by hooded masks or long pieces of cloth wound around their heads. A tent suddenly exploded and the Twins walked calmly through, rage burning in their eyes. They held up their hands and felled a few of the attackers around them.

"Tell Nédan to send in his men," said the man from before. He was presumably the leader. They were now on the far edge of the campsite, passing fewer and fewer tents. Alycie noticed that there were more of the hooded men in this area. They must have slowly conquered their way in to the center.

"Elian!" came an unfamiliar voice. "They're driving us back!"

"Call a retreat. Make it fast so they can't follow us," said the leader. Alycie's heart suddenly froze.

"Murtagh!" she cried, struggling to get free. The man holding her tightened his grip. Alycie kicked at him, cursing the Twins for tying her hands behind her back. "Put me down! Murtagh!"

"Be quiet!"

"Somebody gag her!"

"No! The Twins! They'll--" Someone reached over Alycie's head and tried to force a piece of material into her mouth. She twisted her head to avoid the onslaught, but the man had pulled the ends taught, forcing her tongue back in her mouth and disabling speech.

They ran swiftly and silently away from the burning campsite. No Urgals followed and the Twins seemed to have withdrawn to the far end of the campsite away from the fighting after they saw the retreat. Alycie's disappearance would be noticed soon enough.

The attackers carried Alycie over a long distance; finally reaching a small dune that concealed a man holding the reins of ten or so horses. Each horse had a fine coat of either a gleaming chestnut or a dark black that was dimmed in the dark of the night. The four men quickly mounted bareback and Alycie was placed on a horse in front of the man who had carried her over his shoulder. They held their steeds steady as they waited for their fellows to arrive.

When they finally sped into the night, nobody spoke. Alycie's eyes roved from hidden face to hidden face as she tried to read their intentions. Her mind opened and she looked at the leader, attempting to probe his mind. Her probe met an iron-hard wall just as strong as Murtagh's. She tried another mind, and another. Every single one had a wall surrounding it.

The horses also surprised her. Cadoc, Tornac, and Snowfire had had enough trouble on the loose fitting sand that covered the Hadarac, but these steeds ran as if they had been born here. Alycie reminded herself that they probably had. They ran as if they were in a meadow of healthy green grass rather than a constantly sliding, dry, hilly landscape covered with increasingly high dunes. As they rode further and further into the heart of the desert, the dunes grew taller and steeper.

The dunes all looked exactly the same to Alycie as well, and navigation would not have worked due to the frequent sandstorms that altered the shape of the desert. On a starless night like this, it was impossible to guess how these natives found their way.

Tears leaked from the corners of Alycie's eyes and she turned her head to wipe them on her shoulder before any of her kidnappers could see. Crying was the first sign of weakness. But the tears wouldn't stop coming. Her heart felt as if it were ripping itself out of her chest.

Murtagh. The full impact of what had happened hit her then. Murtagh was still prisoner. Murtagh would be taken to Urû'baen. He would be placed before Galbatorix. Who knew what they would do? What did Galbatorix want with him? Was he to replace his father? Murtagh had mentioned being placed as a high-ranking officer in the army of the Empire. He had also mentioned Galbatorix's skill in persuasion. What if he was swayed to side with the Empire again?

Alycie shook her head. Her Murtagh wouldn't side with the Empire he hated so much. Her Murtagh wouldn't give in to the torture or the persuasion of the king. But her Murtagh might not be the one who arrived at Urû'baen. Who had he been before she met him and fell in love with him? The noble Murtagh. His morals and ambitions might be different.

No. No, she wouldn't believe it. It would be her Murtagh who arrived and he would escape same as she, and they would ride to Surda and leave the Empire and the Varden behind. She knew it was hopeless as soon as she thought it.

Alycie felt her eyes ache with the pain of the past several sleepless nights. She closed them to deter the feeling. A sudden and unexpected wave of utter exhaustion hit her then and drew her under into an ocean of deep sleep.

_A young man lay next to a copper-haired maiden in a simple bed. They looked so calm and in love. So at peace. Alycie felt her heart wrench. That was how she and Murtagh had been. How she longed to be embraced as the redhead was by this strong man. The girl lay her head on the man's chest and Alycie heard him sigh._

_There was a booming noise and an explosion as the door was blasted off of its hinges. The man and woman jerked into consciousness, yelling as a small squadron of soldiers dressed in the red and black colors of the Empire invaded the small room. Alycie felt her insides freeze suddenly as two Ra'zac glided in after them. The woman screamed and clutched at the blankets as a soldier pressed a sword to the man's neck._

_"_Up_," ordered a Ra'zac. The man steadily stepped out of the bed. He was wearing pants, but no shirt, and Alycie quickly took in the dark of his hair and eyes. He seemed vaguely familiar. The Ra'zac ordered a soldier to tie him up._

_The woman suddenly lunged at the man with a shriek, clawing at his face. The man dropped to the floor and grabbed a hammer, leaping into the fray and bashing soldier after soldier with inhuman strength. Two were flung aside, injured, while three were clearly dead. The Ra'zac hissed and grabbed the woman, flying out of the room._

_"Roran!" the woman screamed. The man ran into the hall after the Ra'zac, catching one as it was climbing through the window. He raised his hammer and brought it down on the creature. A black hand caught his wrist in midair and the Ra'zac pulled itself back up into the hall, hissing with madness._

_"Yesss! You are the one we want!" The man struck again and again at the Ra'zac, reaching up and pulling the hood back off of the beast's head._

Alycie screamed.

Someone slapped her hard. Alycie's eyes flew open, rolling wildly as the face of the exposed Ra'zac burned in her mind. Three figures stood above her, looking down. The face was theirs! Alycie struck out, attempting to smash their long beaks or jab out a lidless eye.

"Hold her!" came a yell. Not a Ra'zac yell. Human. Alycie was puzzled, struggling still as she felt several strong hands catch her flailing limbs and hold them down. Alycie looked into their faces once more, blinking. The images of Ra'zac vanished, leaving the three faces of human males in their place. She stopped thrashing, relaxing her body and calming her rapidly beating heart.

It was daytime now, Alycie could see, around late dawn and she seemed to be lying on her back in the sand. Horses snorted and whinnied a ways away. Alycie noticed that her hands were no longer tied behind her back. But who were these men? They were obviously against the Empire, but they didn't look like any of the Varden that Alycie had seen before. And the Varden thought they were dead...

"Are you with the Varden?" she asked, looking from one face to another. The middle man shook his head. That proved that there was no desert extension of the Varden. No, she would have heard of it from Ferros or Eragon. The middle man turned his head to look at someone.

"She's awake," he said. A fourth man entered Alycie's vision. He looked at her with piercing blue eyes.

"Can we trust you not to kill anyone if we let you go?" he asked. Alycie recognized his voice as the leader's from the night before. He looked younger than his voice had led her to believe, only a few years older than she was, with long, straight black hair and tanned skin attributed to the desert environment. She nodded and her limbs were released. She sat up, looking around.

The men from the night before had set up a camp and were relaxing. Some short, sharp crags nearby provided a bit of shade that the horses were gladly enjoying. Alycie quickly noticed that not all of the men were...well...men. Women dressed in the same dark clothing as the male desert soldiers. All had tanned skin and kohl spread around their eyes.

"You need a healer," said the man, drawing Alycie's attention once more.

"No I don't," said Alycie. It was a lie. She knew she looked as bad as Murtagh had back at the campsite. The man knew she was lying too.

"You've broken a rib or two and you're covered in cuts and bruises," he said. Alycie thought, estimating her remaining strength. She could heal her back with magic, but not much else.

"What are your plans for me now that I'm your captive?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye. The man cocked an eyebrow.

"Plans for you?" he asked. Alycie nodded.

"Well you probably had a reason for infiltrating a camp of Urgals to kidnap me, or were you after something else?" she asked. The man shook his head.

"You didn't look like you were with them of your own free will," he said with a shrug. Alycie blinked.

"You're saying that you attacked a gigantic camp of Urgals just to get me out of there?" she asked.

"Stupid idea, wasn't it?" came a voice. A woman with short, sandy blonde hair and dark eyes approached, her arms crossed. Alycie looked up at her.

"It was, but it worked beautifully, didn't it?" she said with a cocky little grin. The woman turned her gaze to the dark-haired man.

"There_ is_ a reason we rescued her, isn't there?" she asked. The man smirked and turned to Alycie.

"Actually there is a reason," he said. "You travel with the Dragon Rider."

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	6. The Strangers and the Stories

**Disclaimer: Don't own _Eldest_.**

**Sorry about the long silence. No, I am NOT dead, as some of you may think. School is swamping me worse than ever with projects, tests every other day, rehearsals for hours after school like every day, etc. Plus the third book won't be out until this winter and I don't want to get too far without knowing the future, so don't expect this to end in a few weeks like its prequel. BEAR WITH ME PLEASE!**

**Thank you for all the reviews so far! Enjoy this (regrettably entirely OC) chapter! I hope it lives to your expectations!**

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Alycie stared in disbelief from the man's face to the woman's and back again.

"You think I travel with the Dragon Rider?" she asked. In her mind she was really thinking _'How did they know?'_ The woman looked to the man.

"This is the one you saw? When the sapphire dragon crossed our territory it was this girl you saw with it?" she asked. The man nodded.

"She and two others," he said. Something stirred in Alycie's memory.

"I saw you. You were standing out by those crags where we camped on the way to--" She cut herself off. The man nodded.

"Which one of you was the Rider?" he asked. Alycie paused.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked. "I don't even know your names yet." The woman crouched down, extending a hand.

"I'm Talis," she said. "This is Elian." She pointed to the man. "And we are of the Falen tribe. Now what are you called?"

"Alycie," said Alycie.

"Talis!" a distant man with long, straight, brown hair called. The woman stood and, with one last glance at Alycie, walked away. Alycie was left alone with Elian.

"Are you the leader?" she asked. Elian shook his head.

"No, I am not. I only directed this mission. We are riding to meet up with the rest of the tribe now. They were headed north when we left," he said.

"And why do you want to know about the Dragon Rider?" asked Alycie. Elian paused, looking at her waist.

"You're bleeding," he said, pointing. Alycie looked down at the soiled shirt. Indeed, a trail of fresh blood was weaving its way down her back from the whip injuries. "You need a healer," Elian added. Alycie shook her head and lifted a hand up the back of her shirt, wincing as her skin touched the sore wound.

"_Waíse heill_," she muttered. Her strength began to drain almost immediately, but she held on as the open wounds on her back sealed themselves without a scar. Elian's eyes widened as he watched her. Alycie wondered why she had displayed her power, but reasoned that it was better to be feared than to fear.

"You are the Rider!" Elian exclaimed. Alycie, still panting from the strain from the magic, shook her head vigorously.

"No, I'm not the Rider," she said. "Riders are not the only magic users in Alagaësia." Surprisingly, Elian's face seemed to turn red under the tan.

"Oh," he said in embarrassment. "I didn't know..."

"I thought everyone knew," said Alycie in confusion. Elian shook his head.

"We are so isolated out here in the Hadarac, that we do not know what is changing in the outside world," he said, lowering his voice. Alycie glanced around. Nobody else was listening. She looked back at Elian.

"Couldn't you send a scout to Bullridge every few years or so?" she asked. Elian shook his head.

"No one would be brave enough to venture out," he said. "The river that separates us from it would present a problem as well."

"Why is no one brave enough?" asked Alycie. Elian gave a dry laugh.

"When the last of the Dragon Riders fell and Galbatorix took the throne, the desert tribes held a council. This was the first time the nomadic tribes had ever assembled, and it was also the last. The leaders came to the agreement that none of the tribes would tangle themselves in alien alliances with the Varden or with the Empire, or even with the elves of the north. It was decided that we would isolate ourselves from the world, remaining in the place where we are safest."

"But...but it's been at least a century since then..." said Alycie.

"We've remained in the Hadarac for a century," said Elian sadly. He paused. "Well not everyone. One man went missing for a few years and turned up claiming he had been taken in by another tribe temporarily, but we all doubt that story considering that we've traveled every inch of the desert since birth."

"Did you not ask the other tribe?" asked Alycie.

"We travel at the same rate in the same direction," said Elian. "No two tribes have assembled since the fall of the Riders."

"Are you all related somehow?" asked Alycie. Elian looked puzzled. "Well if you don't meet with other tribes and you've been alone for a century, wouldn't you all be marrying within your own family?"

"You underestimate the size of our tribe," said Elian. "We are more numerous than that."

"Well all I've heard about the Hadarac is that it's big, hot, dry, and full of sand," said Alycie. "And I think that about sums up the knowledge in every...er...outsider's mind." Elian let out a laugh.

"And I thought we were ignorant," he said.

"Who is ignorant, now?" came a female voice. Talis was back, her arms crossed as she looked down at Elian. The grin fled his face.

"The lizards we're going to eat tonight. They don't have any idea what's coming to them," he said quickly. Talis raised an eyebrow, but turned her eyes to Alycie.

"I need you to come with me," she said. Alycie narrowed her eyes.

"Why?" she asked.

"Your injuries need to be treated before we can move on," replied Talis.

"Why not right here?"

"Do you really want all of these wide-eyed, slack-jawed muscle-brains to see your goodies?" Alycie's eyes roved around the camp. She could see the men talking casually, but she also caught the underhanded glances they were shooting her and the smirks pulling at the corners of their mouths. She turned back to Talis.

"Understood. Let's go," she said. She tried to stand, but failed, hissing as her ribs turned icy hot with pain. She felt Talis' strong grip on her arm and in the next second she was on her feet, walking clumsily after Talis towards the short crags.

Alycie sank down onto the ground when they'd reached the other side of the large, jutting rocks. She pulled off her grimy shirt and heard Talis tsk in disapproval. She looked up as Talis crouched down next to her, taking a bandage out of the pouch on her belt.

"What happened to _you_?" she asked rhetorically. Alycie looked down and saw immediately why the question had been asked. She _did_ look as bad as Murtagh, covered in bruises and cuts, especially on her stomach. Her entire side was a deep, dark purple tinged with a sickly yellow. Dried blood was settled in long lines along her legs and her feet were barely recognizable, just as they had been upon her escape from Dras-Leona. Talis had pulled out a hip flask and was pouring a small amount of water onto a cloth she had pulled from her belt. Alycie hissed as the other woman pressed the cloth to her side, but she didn't wince or pull back.

"Why did you not save Murtagh as well?" she asked after a moment.

"Who?" asked Talis.

"Murtagh. He was the other prisoner there," said Alycie, trying hard to keep her voice even.

"Oh, the cursing man..." Talis muttered. Alycie waited for an answer. The healer took a deep breath before replying. "He was too heavily guarded. It would have taken our full force to even attempt a rescue. With those two magicians firing off blasts at anyone who came too close, it was nearly impossible to get you out."

"Why did you then?" asked Alycie. Talis removed the wet cloth and pulled out a long bandage, slowly wrapping it around Alycie's chest, binding her ribs.

"Because Elian insisted upon it," she said. Alycie furrowed her brow and turned to look into the other woman's face.

"Why did he insist?" she asked. Talis shrugged.

"Hell if I know. He came back to the camp after a two day excursion a few weeks ago with news of a blue dragon accompanying three travelers across the desert. You had made it this far, so naturally we assumed one of you was the Rider. Jarae made the decision to withold the information from the other tribes until we knew more to prolong this peace as long as we could. Elian didn't like that order, but he had to respect it if he wanted to keep his odds up." Alycie looked confused.

"His...odds?"

"Jarae- that's our Captain, by the way -is getting very old. He's already lost his sight, and now he's made plans to select an heir to his position. His own sons, Kahz and Oedän, have been passed over for the consideration, and Jarae's grandsons are the next candidates. Elian is one, and Nédan is the other. He's out there with us; I'll point him out to you. The two of them have gone through trials all through the past two years and the time for the selection is growing nearer. Both have to work their hardest if they want to gain the favor of Jarae."

"And...how did you spot the Twins this time?" asked Alycie. Talis moved on to bandage her throbbing arm.

"We stopped in a couple of places along our way through the desert and another one of our men, Saleo, I think it was, returned to report two bald magicians leading a band of Urgals up through our territory. He told Elian first and the two of them rode to spy on the caravan when Elian recognized you and asked Jarae for permission to attack." She stopped with a shake of her head and a dry laugh. "Of course he didn't get it, but he rallied us into favor for the attack anyway, and now we're out here with you in our custody."

"But...doesn't that mean his chances are hurt?" asked Alycie. Talis nodded.

"Most likely. Aaand, done." She stood up and helped Alycie to her feet, handing her some fresh clothes to wear instead of her ratty old shirt. They returned to the travel group, who were all on their feet preparing the horses for travel.

"Did you fix her up?" asked Elian, walking over.

"Reasonably," replied Talis. "She'll have to be stitched up in some places once we reach the camp, but she'll survive until then." She turned and walked away to a bareback horse a few men away. Alycie watched her go before turning back to Elian. He read the look of confusion on her face.

"You'll ride with me," he said, holding out a hand. Alycie took it and allowed him to help her onto the chestnut steed's back. He joined her in a quick bound and soon the entire crowd was riding off through the sands once more.

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	7. The Voice and the Vagrants

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**I. Am. SO. Sorry.**

**Okay, so I've been at rehearsals for five hours every day for the past two weeks, and before that I had two big projects going on, and before that I had a big family event. In short, I was super busy! But now I'm back and I managed to finish this short chapter to satisfy your thirst for more. **

**I have a vague idea of where I'm going with this but right now I'm getting a ton of information about the OC's out in these next few chapters. I will definitely have more time to update now, but I can't guarantee that this will be finished by July because I have so many places I'm going and so much stuff more to do.**

**Thank you all for remaining faithful to the story! I am making a third one once the third book is out, so though this story is going very slow, it is for a good reason and it is for the best!**

**I'll try and update **_**Darkest Hour**_** after this and then I'll go back and try to revive my long-dead story **_**If They Only Knew**_**, so please note that this is only barely my main focus.**

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_'Gone...gone...gone...'_

_'Who is gone?'_ thought Alycie dreamily.

_'My love...my only love...gone...'_ repeated the voice in a whisper.

_'My love is gone. Taken by the traitors.'_ A spurt of fiery, venomous fury erupted with the last word. The echoing whisper sounded a third time.

_'Traitor...the bastard traitor...he's given her to them...those..._monsters The whisper grew in audibility with each word as Alycie's had done, spitting the word 'monsters' with equally as much disgust. Alycie felt a sense of understanding and relation. The voice went on. _'I'll kill him. Sloan will die for his treachery against our home. Katrina...'_

_'Just as the Twins' necks will fall to my blade,'_ thought Alycie in triumph, laughing. The alien voice paused with a shuddering sigh and Alycie felt rather than saw its owner run a hand over his forehead and back through his hair.

_'Madness...the Ra'zac have gone and driven me mad. Now I'm hearing voices of rage. Spirits begone from my peace of mind...'_

_'But I am not mad. Vengeful, yes, but not mad,'_ Alycie told herself. The voice countered quickly.

_'Oh, my voice thinks it's mad. Well that's madness within itself now,'_ it replied in a resigned tone of mockery. Alycie felt herself frown.

_'I'm a voice?'_ she thought. _'No, my disembodied friend, I believe you are mine.'_

_'And if not a voice, then just who or what are you?'_ Alycie was stumped at this. She wasn't insane if the voice in her head was asking who she was. Couldn't it tell? Or was she more insane than she had thought?

_'A human, if you must know, suffering from post-traumatic insanity from the looks of the situation,'_ she thought. The other voice gave a dry laugh.

_'You are more vixen than human, avoiding the question as a fox avoids an arrow,'_ it said. A smart voice too.

_'Then you must be a bull, battering everything in its path relentlessly and with neverending strength,'_ she replied sarcastically much to the voice's amusement. It laughed. Its laugh was genuine, but hollow, as if the true fuel behind its laugh had been removed, leaving a ghost of its former self at most.

_'I am called Stronghammer,'_ it relinquished, _'and my stress and distress has led me to my insanity.'_

_'We are figments of each other's imaginations then,'_ said Alycie with a laugh. Stronghammer did not laugh, but she could sense a smile upon his nonexistent lips.

"Alycie."

Alycie's eyes opened to the sight of a lock of chestnut hair hanging limply over a matching coat. She blinked once, recovering herself as she sat up to survey the surrounding sands. The sun was low over the distant horizon, casting a red, orange, and further in the sky purple shadow over the desert. Their shadows were elongated beside them as they rode along slowly on their steeds. Behind her, Elian held the reins to his own horse, and it was he who had spoken. Alycie threw him a questioning look over her shoulder and he nodded at the southern horizon. She turned back around, squinting at the distant dunes siloughetted black against the ruby red sky.

Some of the dunes had corners protruding from their rounded sides, and their outlines were whipping in the slight, warm breeze that swirled the sands over the Hadarac. They were tents. The tents of the Falen tribe. And there were more of them than Alycie had predicted. As they neared, more tents appeared. They scattered over the dunes for at least a mile around. Alycie couldn't believe that the tribes in the desert hadn't been better known, considering the size of their populations.

The outskirts were deserted as they reached the field of fluttering tents. The horses slowed to a walk accentuated with the faint sound of sifting sand. Distantly, the beat of drums was audible through the piercing silence of sunset. Several of the men dismounted and took their steeds' reins to lead them on foot through the roughly established pathways that spread like spider webs amongst the tents.

The sounds of drums grew louder as they continued to make their way through the campsite. Eventually chanting and voices joined in time to the beat, creating a strange and exotic harmony that made the hairs on the back of Alycie's neck stand up in apprehension and nerves. She tried to make out the words, but after a moment's listening, she found that it was not in a language she recognized, ancient or any other. The singers' voices wavered as they belted chilling notes into the night air to the beat of the drums. Looking around, Alycie saw that her escorts had their kohl-lined eyes closed in peace. They looked as though they were absorbing the sensation of returning home.

The crowded clusters of tents suddenly stopped as the narrow pathway merged with a large circle in the center of the campsite. Three crackling bonfires sat flaming and sparking in a triangle formation at the very center of the circle. Tanned figures were dancing in an extraordinary and new fashion more flexible than Alycie had ever seen. At the front of the circular crowd that sat around the three fires and the dancers, a man sitting cross-legged with a large, hide-covered, wooden drum was seated between every five people. Their heads were shorn and their eyes all bore the same burn marks that formed thin lines on the eyelashes of every Falen native. And right now those lined eyes were all turned to focus on the newly arrived caravan, and the majority was staring unblinkingly at Alycie.

"Ah, the unpredictable fool returns!" a throaty voice croaked as the beat of the drums died away and the dancers stilled. Elian wordlessly dismounted his horse as a man emerged from the circular crowd that surrounded the bonfire pyramids. A curtain of silver streaked, dark hair fell about the tanned face that held the blackest eyes Alycie had ever seen. They did not reflect the light of the fire, seeming to swallow up the orange flickers like cold leeches sapping the warmth out of the very air. A thin, grey mouth stretched in a sneer of yellow teeth as the ebony tunnels connected with Elian's icy blue gaze. "Jarae does not think highly of your impudence. If you are not careful it could count against you."

"We lost no one in the attack," said Elian in a strong voice that masked any fear or guilt the young man might have felt.

"But someone was found it seems," said the man. His eyes suddenly flicked to Alycie, making her jump as the hairs on the back of her neck. Goosebumps rose on her skin in an army as if the coldness of the man's eyes were physical. "Attacking the Kull for an outsider."

"They had no time to retaliate, Kahz!" said Elian.

"Do not raise your voice to me, boy!" hissed Kahz, his eyes filling with a sudden cold fire. Two men extracted themselves from the crowd hurriedly. Thinning, light hair and a set of eyes as blue as Elian's led an elder at a pace uncharacteristic of the latter man's age.

"Back only a minute and an argument has already risen, has it, Kahz?" asked the blue-eyed man with a twitch of the mouth. Kahz crossed his arms.

"He deliberately disobeyed orders, Oedän. A fully-fledged attack against the Kull _and_ two magic users could have lost all of them their lives! And he wants to be a captain, to lead our people in the future. With suicide plots like this, he should not even be considered!"

"I will be the judge of that, Kahz," said the old man in a voice deeper than Elian's. Kahz fell silent at the old man's words, but a derisive scowl remained on his face. The man called Oedän whispered something Alycie could not hear to the old man as he turned his gaze to her. "Now Elian, why did you decide to meddle in outsiders' affairs and lead an attack against the Kull to rescue a young woman?" The old man did not look at Elian when he spoke, but rather he gazed off to the right of the crowd of horses. Then realization hit. He was blind.

"She travels with the Dragon Rider," said Elian. A chorus of whispers broke the silence of the surrounding crowd as they turned to one another in shock and interest. "She can use magic. She used it to heal herself on the journey over."

"She could be one of Galbatorix's soldiers!" came a cry from the ring of Falen. Another round of murmurs arose at this.

"She could have easily attacked us on the way here if she worked for Galbatorix!" shouted Elian over the talk. "And how could she work for him if she was being held captive by their men?"

"Excuses aren't facts, Elian," said the old man calmly, and the crowd silenced as he spoke. The authority he carried made it apparent to Alycie that this must be their leader. The captain that Talis had mentioned. Jarae. "We have no knowledge of her aims or alliances."

"I am with the Varden!" said Alycie suddenly, drawing every gaze in the campsite to her. Kahz's face contorted with anger.

"Do not speak! You are our captive until we discover your true purpose in our territory!" he ordered. But Jarae looked interested.

"With the Varden," he repeated matter-of-factly. "That is the resistance. And how is Ajihad faring against the Emperor?" Alycie was caught off guard by the question. For a moment she nearly forgot the devastating truth. But only for a moment.

"He...he's dead," she said hesitantly. Disappointment flickered over Jarae's face as he shook his head.

"He was a great leader with one of the greatest hearts," he said. His manner transformed seamlessly to business. "Elian," he addressed, "our _guest_ will be in your charge as long as she remains with us. Any fault of hers will be placed on your head. This is the weight of the probable danger you have willingly escorted into our midst. It shall rest on your shoulders." Kahz opened his mouth to argue, but Jarae spoke once more. "That is my final say on the matter. Now get her true healer before her ribs are damaged any more. Talis' skill can only go so far."

And with that, he turned and walked off alone into the crowd. Someone tapped Alycie's leg and she looked down to see Talis standing next to the horse. The Falen helped her down onto the trodden sand and the reins of the steed were taken by another man who turned to escort the small herd to join the other horses of the tribe.

Alycie turned to look at Elian. He stood stiff and straight-backed facing Oedän and Kahz as the drums resumed their beating and the dancers took up their fluid movements once more. Two men from the newly arrived squadron walked over to join him. One had loose, sandy hair that fell below his ears while the other had straight brown hair that fell down to his shoulders.

"Let's take you to Bahri before you join the festivities," said Talis, easing her arm under Alycie's for support as she led her off to the surrounding tents.

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	8. The Regiment and the Report

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest.**_

**Okay, okay, you win! Here's your Murtagh chapter!**

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It had taken nearly three hours to paddle across the Ramr in the high, cold winds against the speeding current. Nobody complained. Nobody had the guts. The Commander had hand picked his men first from the crowd of freshly branded recruits and obedience was the first thing he had looked for in the men. The second was endurance and the third was loyalty to the Empire. Strength, the Commander knew, was merely a factor that could be built over time and did not usually come naturally.

The morning had had an ominous grey sky that hung low over the land, but by midday the last remnants of warmth had been sucked up into the atmosphere as the clouds descended to the ground in a thick fog. Only the newly lit lights of Bullridge could be seen as tiny pinpricks in the distance, lighting tunnels through the low cloud and giving the men a sense of direction.

All afternoon they stood in the freezing settled cloud. A short shout from the Commander granted the men permission to eat the stale, dry hunks of bread that did nothing but filled their stomachs enough to keep them from collapsing. Nobody spoke for those hours that they waited, aside from the Commander that is. They knew why they were there. They were prepared.

The Commander strode up to one of his men. This soldier was promising. They had had barely five missions in the name of the Empire and already he had shown true leadership skills worthy of an officer. Needless to say, the Commander had a scrutinizing eye on him.

"Any sign of 'em, Leech?" he asked the protégé. The soldier did not glance at his Commander as he answered.

"Faint echoes of footfalls can be heard and the ground vibrates slightly at their approach," he responded. The Commander did not reply, instead standing intensely still as he stared off into the heavy cloud. Indeed a faint thumping was audible through the silent fog and the dirt shifted under his leather boots. The Commander nodded and pivoted to face the rest of his men, signaling that their charge's approach was nigh.

Silently they formed ranks behind the Commander, their stony faces peering off into the fog. Show no expression. That was the first order they had received in the field. Expressions gave away plans.

Shadows came into view. The shadows of two men, identical to the last curve. As the shadows became colored, the features clearer, monstrous shadows came into form behind them. The Kull. The Twins had kept them under control without a hitch it seemed. The Commander straightened as the two magic users inclined their heads slightly in greeting.

"You've brought him?" he asked, though it was more of a demand than a inquiry. Identical flickers of annoyance shone in the Twins' eyes as they snapped their fingers.

Two Kull came forward; their arms interlocked with a pale, dark-haired man. It was hard to tell that he was pale, for his skin lay under layer upon layer of grime and blood. His shirt was gone and his pants were torn to ribbons up to the knees, which were currently dragging on the ground. His head hung limp, the face turned towards the ground, as if he were unconscious. The Commander sniffed as he regarded the beaten man.

"Garrick! Majet!" he barked without moving his eyes.

The man previously referred to as Leech along with a tall, skinny man with long, dark red hair strode forward and linked their arms with the prisoner's. Suddenly, a grimy and scabbed hand tightened into a fist as it retracted and shot out with considerable force, landing in Majet's abdomen. The redhead doubled over in pain as the prisoner turned his aggression to the second guard. Garrick clasped his hands and struck the man on the back of the head, knocking him to all fours. He kicked the man's middle hard and the dark-haired prisoner doubled up like his fiery-haired guard, coughing on the dusty ground.

"He does not know when he is beaten," said the Commander. The Twins smirked.

"Oh we think that he knows it," they said as one. "His only reason to live has been smothered in the sands of the Hadarac."

"Explain," said the Commander. The Twins' smiles turned to scowls.

"And why should we discuss private matters with a man of war?" one asked. The Commander narrowed an eye at them.

"I have been given direct orders by King Galbatorix himself to collect the details of your successful capture and to give him a full report preceding your own. So if I were you two, I would show this man of war a little respect." Garrick and the fully recovered Majet hauled the prisoner to his knees once more, suspending him by his elbows. The Twins leered at the beaten man before speaking.

"In his flight from the King, the son of Morzan wandered following the Ra'zac's trail throughout the land. When the great Brom was felled, he joined the new Rider, Eragon, and a simple girl of no seemingly no significance. They traveled to Gil'ead where our own men captured Eragon, but Murtagh and the girl rescued him. They traveled to the Beors through the Hadarac and along the way Murtagh and the girl fell in love. When we invaded her mind under Ajihad's orders, we unlocked her ability to use magic, and so she was found suddenly of value to the Varden. They fought together against Durza and the Kull in Farthen Dûr and they planned to escape to Surda together, but we acted before they had the chance. Unfortunately she was captured by a tribe in the desert a few days ago and we were unable to trace her."

"Is she of value?" asked the Commander, his eyes scrutinizing the Twins mercilessly. The hairless magicians shifted uneasily.

"She had...visions...many a day of the future. We did not hear any firsthand, but a rumor had spread throughout the mountain before our betrayal."

"A seer. You had a seer in your possession who may have been the key to Galbatorix's success and the key to the son of Morzan's will, and you lost her to some desert rats?" The Commander clicked his tongue with a shake of the head as he turned to the prisoner. "What luck, Murtagh. Your bitch is being used as a slave or a whore to a band of wrinkled old savages in the endless sands while you are being safely escorted to the comfort of the King's halls. Why the long face? You have so much to be thankful for." He let out a bark of a laugh and motioned for his soldiers to take him away. Murtagh lifted his head and looked straight into the Commander's eyes as Garrick and Majet began to drag him to the back of the line.

Although the Commander had seen things that would have made the toughest men faint like women and the strongest men hide their eyes, he could not quell a cold shiver of fear that shot up his spine as his eyes connected with the stormy clouds of Murtagh's. His face, bloody and bruised, but recognizable, held no defiance, no anger, not even despair. _Pain_ was what they said to the Commander, but not the feeling of pain; the want to cause pain, not for revenge, and not for justice. Raw, uncontrolled destruction.

An instant and then it was gone as the prisoner's eyes returned to the ground. The Commander let out a breath through his nostrils as he watched his men carry the haunted man off. Then he thrust out his chest, turning back to the Twins. A short, almost nonexistent nod of his head, and the bald men inclined their spines, striding off to the sidelines muttering under their breaths. The soldiers now faced the Kull. A demanding shout and there was a single, unanimous sound of steel on steel as the regiment drew their swords as one. A strained sound near the back suggested a hundred knocked arrows pulled back on strings.

The Kull had no time even to grunt in surprise. The arrows hit them in three consecutive waves. Those who survived the venomous tips drew their various weapons with roars of anger, but they were quickly struck down by the Commander and his men. It was quick. About a half of an hour later the entire Kull clan lay slaughtered in the dust. Another half of an hour later their bodies were floating face down along the current of the Ramr, fading into the south.

"Load the boats!" commanded the Commander. As his troops complied, he turned to the Twins, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Where did that seer come from?" The Twins looked at him.

"Dras-Leona from what we saw. Nothing but a slave, she was. Not greatly skilled in the magic she was able to perform, but she was an invaluable seer. Her loss will count greatly against us."

"Perhaps we will scour the desert for her next. Unless she somehow escapes it," said the Commander.

"If she escapes, she will be reported in the village she escapes to. Her face is still on wanted posters throughout Alagaësia," said a Twin. The Commander grunted.

"The one called Alycie?" he asked.

"Yes," said a Twin with a scowl. "Alycie the seer and keeper of the key to the son of Morzan's heart."

"Well a title like that won't earn her favor anywhere in the land," said the Commander. "We will get her in the end."

"If luck is with us," said a Twin. The Commander nodded and lifted his eyes to survey his men. A pair of gray, greenish-blue eyes quickly rotated away from the Commander and the Twins as the former's gaze traveled his way. So she had been captured. No one could survive the Hadarac, thought Garrick as he secured the painfully tight knot of rope around Murtagh's wrists. Not even his sister.

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	9. The Healing and the Halfbreed

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Well, that wasn't so long to wait now was it? I congratulate myself on not waiting a month to update! Hooray for me. Anyway I apologize for the depressingness of the last chapter and I'd like to say that I developed an entire character in three seconds and I like him very much; he is in this chapter quite a lot. Thank you all for helping me reach 100 reviews before chapter 10! I love you all to no end!**

**Just would like you to know, I have the plot figured out most of the way. The entire desert part anyway, and yes they do leave the desert. It just remains to be seen how many chapters it is until then. I'm mostly making this stuff up off of the top of my head. Sorry this chapter isn't especially long by the way, but it's midnight and I'm at a stopping point so I'm taking it.**

**And I think I'll throw in another Murtagh chapter soon. I enjoyed writing the last one, though I had difficulty with the POV. It ended up being the Commander the whole time and I did not plan on that. Anyway, yes Garrick is now an evil prick, but he's an evil prick with a heart in that cold shell somewhere. Didn't I hint that his personality would turn to that in the first chapter? I believe I did. **

**Do not expect to hear from Galbatorix. He hasn't been seen in the real books, he won't be seen in these. I've taken an oath. No Galbatorix until sequel III. Oh, and never writing a Girl-Finds-Dragon-Egg-And-Becomes-Rider fic ever either. EVER! EVER EVER EVER! There, done introducing, here is the chapter!**

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The tribal healer of the Falen tribe surprised Alycie more than anything she had yet seen in the desert. He had fair, unmarked skin only slightly tanned in contrast to the rest of the tribe, and his hair was featherlight and a dusty shade of brown, falling down over his ears. But his eyes were nearly as opaque as Jarae's as they looked Alycie's injuries over with only the uttermost professional respect. Talis stood by the doorflap of the tent, her arms crossed as she observed his work. Alycie lifted her arms with a hiss as the healer studied her waist and back.

"Kull are not the smartest race to provoke," he said with a click of his tongue as he applied a thick, dull green paste to the cuts along her side. Alycie scowled.

"I didn't provoke them," she said. She knew that Bahri knew she hadn't, but she was in no mood to dampen his sense of humor. Her arms lowered at his request and he began fumbling with the innumerable herbs spread on his bedspread.

"Talis, if you would fetch about three rolls of bandages, I would be eternally grateful," he said without looking up. Alycie's eyes flicked to the door to find it deserted. Talis was fast. "You should be more worried about your mental health than physical," said Bahri.

"I've encountered Kull before. They don't make that much of an impression," said Alycie. It was an understatement, of course.

"I don't mean the Kull," said Bahri. "The visions have increased, haven't they?" Alycie looked at the healer with wide eyes. His light irises met hers for the briefest of seconds. "It is unnatural for a magic user to have so many," he went on as if nothing groundshaking had been unveiled. "Turn your head if you will." Dumbly, Alycie turned her head to the side, though her eyes strained to continue to watch Bahri. He noticed this. "Look at the far wall, I'm not going to do anything bad," he said.

"How did you know?" asked Alycie. The healer didn't answer. Alycie felt her hair being moved and heard the light click of his tongue against the top of his mouth.

"I thought so," he said. "A blow to the head. You fell?" Alycie thought. Her head had been hit when she fell unconscious inside Farthen Dûr. Her head had hit the floor.

"Yes," she said.

"The visions began then?"

"No, I had them since...since the Twins searched my mind."

"Meddling fools..." Bahri muttered under his breath. "But your visions increased since you hit your head, yes?" Alycie reflected for a moment. Comprehension dawned on her. Before the ambush her visions had come only in dreams and riddles on paper. But ever since even when she was merely daydreaming she had a vision. More than three times a day. And then there was Stronghammer...

"Yes," she confirmed, turning her head back to face Bahri. Her eyes glanced at the doorway. Talis had still not returned. "How come everyone's minds are so guarded here?"

"It is rude to invade others' conscious minds," said Bahri. Alycie narrowed her eyes at him.

"They were kidnapping me and had threatened me with death. And I didn't see you showing much restraint when you took it upon yourself to investigate my consciousness."

"Your consciousness is hard to ignore," said Bahri calmly.

"How so?"

"It isn't guarded at all. In fact it is screaming to the world, begging them to invade," said the healer. "And its composition is all the more tempting."

"Why?" asked Alycie. "What's wrong with it."

"It's divided and torn in patches. There are things in your memory that don't quite belong. And to answer your question about the Falen, I have taken it upon myself to train them to guard their minds. They might not know it, but subconsciously I have coached them."

"You are not one of them," said Alycie in realization. Bahri looked at her momentarily, then turned to set his bowl of green paste on the bed, grabbing a purple colored powder. His hand reached up and brushed his hair behind his ear as it fell into his line of sight. Alycie stared. "You are an elf..." she said. He glanced briefly at her.

"Half."

"Do you know--"

"Bahri, I hope you know how much junk I had to dig through to find these," said Talis angrily, tossing over three rolls of bandages. Bahri caught them without a word and quickly went about wrapping Alycie's head. Talis swore. "She's hit there too? Where did she _not_ get hit?"

"Is Elian in trouble?" asked Alycie, looking at Talis. The woman shrugged, crossing her arms.

"Jarae isn't holding his actions against him. Oedän and Kahz are in the back of the crowd battling it out between them though."

"Fight of the fathers," said Alycie. Talis snorted.

"Oedän isn't Elian's father," she said. Alycie blinked.

"He's not? Then how is--"

"He's his uncle. Elian's father up and left the tribe a year after he was born. Gone for two years before he shows up again with some story about getting lost and contracting fever. Says he stayed with the Uliere tribe for a time as well, but we all know they wouldn't have taken him. He's not here anymore though. One month back with us before he gets bitten by a snake, goes into violent hallucinations and beheads himself on his own blade. Elian's mother died of grief and he was left with old Uncle Oedän. That made him a candidate for leadership. His mother, Nalia, was Jarae's kin, and only the blood of the leader can succeed, but the sons are chosen first always. Kahz holds it against him as you can tell. His sons would have had a direct ascent if it weren't for him."

"And his sons are...the boy with straight hair and the blonde?" asked Alycie, recalling the sandy haired boy that had walked to Kahz with a slightly taller man whose very straight, light brown hair had stuck out in particular in Alycie's memory. Talis nodded.

"Yes, those are Nédan and Saleo. Nédan is eldest and Kahz's favorite," she said.

"Raise your arms again," said Bahri softly. Alycie complied and the healer began to wrap a bandage around her ribs.

"Jarae wants to speak to you as soon as you're fixed up," said Talis.

"Which won't be until tomorrow afternoon at earliest," interjected Bahri. "She needs rest. Her wounds need time to heal."

"When can I leave?" asked Alycie. Both Talis's eyes and Bahri's eyes focused on her own.

"Leave?" repeated Talis. Alycie nodded. She sighed. "Look, you won't be able to leave for a while..."

"What!?" exclaimed Alycie.

"Calm down, calm down. It's just until you talk to Jarae. It's only temporary, you see. Once we know your true intentions and your alliances, then you'll be free to go, but by then we'll be on the other side of the desert or back down by the Beors and--"

"My true intentions? But I'm with the Varden, I swear!" argued Alycie, waving her arms, trying to make Talis understand. Bahri took her wrists and calmly pushed them down as he continued to work.

"I know you're with the Varden, but not all of the Falen do, Alycie," said Talis. "Jarae needs to talk with you before any of them will fully trust you."

"You all are as bad as the Varden," said Alycie, lifting her hands to her face. Bahri once again took her wrists and pushed them down to her sides, beginning to bandage her upper right arm. "Stupid Eragon...all we were going to do was deliver him and go to Surda. But we can't even do that! No, just because his father--"

"Whose father?" asked Talis. Alycie shrugged.

"Murtagh's. The captive man you all refused to rescue as well," she said, failing to disguise a shadow of resentment that entered her voice. She reached up to push her hair back out of her face, but Bahri didn't put her wrist down this time.

"Murtagh?" he repeated. Talis furrowed her brow, now looking at the healer.

"Do you know what she's talking about, Bahri?"

"In fact I do," said Bahri, pulling Alycie's hand down and tying off the bandage that enveloped her bicep. "All finished. She'll bunk with you in your tent tonight, Talis, alright?"

"And where are you going?" asked Talis, watching Bahri cap off his bottles and bowls by tying a fabric around the mouths of each. His gaze met Alycie's. He would go to Jarae. He would tell him of the increased danger. He would reveal that her lover was the son of Morzan. She would be locked up like Murtagh in Tronjheim. She would never get out of the Hadarac. Murtagh would never be saved. But he did not break their eye contact.

"Nowhere," he said, looking up at Talis. "I'm going to bed. Why are you still here? She needs her sleep. Do you want her to be infected already?"

"She can get infected in her sleep just as well. Don't be blaming me for it!" said Talis, throwing her arms into the air in exasperation. She helped Alycie to her feet and supported her as they exited the tent. Alycie tried to catch one last glimpse of Bahri before the flap closed, but she couldn't. Her mind opened and searched for the elf's consciousness.

_'Thank you'_, she stated to the iron barricade that surrounded the elf's mind. She knew he had heard and understood.

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**REVIEW! And I MEAN review. I see all of you with this on your alert list and a ton of you haven't reviewed even once. Come on, it can be two letters for all I care! Show support for your fellow writers! Thanks y'all!**


	10. The Watcher and the White Eyed Man

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**I have no words to describe my apologetics. I've just had the worst writer's block on this story and it's been awful, though I do say that the time lost has been one step closer to the third book. Anyway, this chapter is really sort of boring, but I needed to get it out of the way. Unfortunately for you readers, I will be in the UK for the next two weeks and then I'll return home for FOUR DAYS during which I will try to get Alycie out of the desert. The next chapter is exciting, I promise. After the four days, I'll be gone for six weeks, so cross your fingers that I'll have time during the four days. I expect tons of reviews upon my return :D**

Erisah Mae, things will be up and moving in the next chapter, I prooooooomise! I just had to get this boring chapter out and said! Now to all of my reviewers: Did you notice that when I demanded a review more than two letters I got more reviews than on any other chapter? Effective, non? Oui!

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Alycie's eyes snapped open. The short hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as chills rolled up and down her spine. She was being watched. She could sense it. And it wasn't just a light sense, oh no, she was shaking with the feeling. It was an intense gaze that was set on her. Painful and dark...

The light of the magic in the back of her mind suddenly flooded her consciousness, driving out the alien feeling. Then it hammered back into her head forcefully, almost unstoppable, invading her mind. The presence felt familiar, but Alycie could not place it. Her magic suddenly swarmed up with regenerated strength, forming an unsurpassable wall around her mind. A hand touched her arm and she returned to the present. Her eyes met Bahri's. He was calm and reassuring, but an unspoken understanding showed on his face. It vanished in a second.

"You've been sleeping for three days," he said. Alycie's brow furrowed and she lifted her head, looking down at her makeshift pillow. She was sitting on the back of a chestnut horse. Her head rose a few inches more. The Falen tribe was migrating. Families rode two to a horse with their belongings packed into beige saddlebags or sacks that were slung over their own shoulders. Bahri was leading the horse that she sat on. Her back straightened as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"Three days?" she repeated. Her eyes drifted out of focus and she blinked. "I didn't dream," she said in surprise.

"That was my doing," said Bahri. Alycie looked at him. "You looked like you needed the sleep more than visions."

"Thank you," said Alycie. They rode or, in Bahri's case, walked in silence for a minute or two. Alycie shielded her eyes as she looked up at the sun. It was well past noon. "I think somebody's scrying me." Bahri turned his opaque gaze to meet hers.

"Your lover?" he inquired. Alycie paused, then nodded. Bahri cursed under his breath. "You are putting us in more danger than is realized."

"Once I convince Jarae that I'm not with the Empire, then I'll be out and on my way..."

"And where will you go?" asked Bahri. Alycie paused.

"To the Varden," she said. "I'll tell them what happened and--"

"And you'll march into Urû'baen with an army of dwarves and men to defeat the Emperor and save your lover?" finished Bahri. He shook his head. "They will not risk their legions for him, I assure you." Alycie looked at the ground. She knew this already.

"Then I'll go by myself," she said.

"And get yourself captured? Oh that will be just the help he needs."

"Fine, I don't know where I'll go, but I can't just stay here and do nothing," said Alycie. Bahri looked at her.

"Sometimes remaining one place until you are actually needed is better than running headlong into a battle long before it begins," he said. Alycie did not reply. Bahri grinned. "Take my advice. Stay with the Falen. You will be safe. And when you are needed elsewhere, go and do what you will."

"But I have to save Murtagh from Gal--" Alycie broke off, staring at the ground.

"Alycie, some people can't be saved," said Bahri gravely. Alycie closed her eyes, feeling two tears leak out from beneath her lashes. She turned her head away and laid her head on the horse's neck.

The sun had begun its descent through the empty, pale blue sky. Alycie stared off into the horizon with half-closed eyes, mulling over her thoughts. She was tired. Physically she was bursting with energy, but her mind felt like it had been beaten as badly as she had in the Twins' care. She was tired of the visions, she was tired of magic, and she was tired of being alone.

The thing that tired her most of all, however, was not understanding the things she saw or heard in visions. Alycie did not understand how poems that made no sense and people she had never encountered applied to her. Perhaps they didn't. She didn't know. It was maddening.

Alycie lifted her head and turned her eyes to Bahri. Now that he knew that she was in love with Murtagh, he would be keeping a close watch on her mind. His eyes flicked up to meet hers as the thought passed through her mind. Of course.

The Falen halted their nomadic migration as it grew late in the day. Tents were erected in seemingly no time and the people went about their businesses as if they had been situated there for years. A pit for a bonfire like Alycie had seen upon her first arrival at the Falen camp was being constructed and they had started to stack strange, clear stones in the center.

"What are they?" asked Alycie as Elian led her around the new campsite. His blue eyes followed her gaze.

"Ember stones," he said. He smiled at Alycie's puzzlement. "Well we can't exactly find wood and brush in the desert, can we?"

"Where did you get them?" asked Alycie.

"Bahri," replied Elian simply. Alycie nodded. There was no need to question. Elves, of course, had access to strange and powerful objects.

"Where are we going?" asked Alycie as Elian took her wrist, leading her through a narrow path enclosed between several tents.

"Time for you to speak with Jarae out of range of prying ears," said Elian. Alycie assumed he meant Kahz. They followed the twisting path for a minute more before Elian stopped by a tent and pulled back a flap of fabric, guiding Alycie underneath.

Jarae's tent surprised Alycie. Unlike Bahri's and Talis's, it was not simple fabric with two mats in the center and a small sack of possessions. Perhaps it was because he led the tribe, but Jarae's tent was a deep blood red in color and a little bit larger than the other tents. Inside, a mat lay off to one side, but in the center stood a collapsible metal contraption with a large, onyx globe set in the center. Alycie could see raised designs set into the globe, so that Jarae could feel his way over the stone and read it with his fingers. It was by this globe that Jarae now stood, one hand spinning the stone within its metal encasing.

"Thank you, Elian. You may leave us now," he said without looking up. Alycie felt a hand touch her shoulder, but when she looked Elian was gone. "You may walk further in, you know."

"What do you want to know?" asked Alycie, walking over to Jarae.

"Bahri tells me that you are of honorable intentions and your passing through our lands was a matter of fate beyond your control," said the old man. "This means that you are free to leave us when you wish, though I do encourage you to remain until your wounds have healed."

"Thank you, sir," said Alycie.

"Jarae, please. I am a friend," said Jarae. Alycie nodded, but remembered he couldn't see her.

"Jarae," she said in acceptance.

"But there is more I wish to know about," said the leader of the Falen. "Tell me, what is the situation in the outside world?" Alycie quickly worded a simple explanation of Galbatorix's reign for the past century. She knew it would be limited due to her own lacking knowledge, but she held no secrets. He next asked about Ajihad's demise and it was then that she held back a few details, like Murtagh's lineage.

"Please don't lower Elian's chances," Alycie added as Jarae went silent at the end of her tale. "He saved me from a horrible fate. I'd hate for his choice to rescue me to be punished..." Jarae let out a wry laugh.

"Not you too. You're already mixed up in this heir business," he said. "Elian's actions will not be punished. I know he was acting out of the goodness of his heart. I only wish he had risked fewer lives in his attempt." He sighed. "The unity of our tribe has become divided as of late with my decision to choose an heir. Kahz and Oedän's incessant arguing has become almost unbearable."

"You have my condolences," said Alycie, smiling. Jarae laughed. He lifted his fingers to the onyx orb and began to twirl it once more thoughtfully.

"There is one last thing I wish to ask you about," he said.

"Yes?"

"Your visions. Bahri mentioned them as well." Alycie blanched. Jarae seemed to sense her tension. "Don't worry, he and I are the only ones who know. I just wish to ask you...do you know what your visions depict?"

"No," admitted Alycie. "I mean I understand the actions they depict..."

"But you don't know the people, and you don't understand the poems," finished Jarae. Alycie stared at him. "I have encountered a young seer before. She did not understand her visions. She saw a hooded man entering a small town and encountering a young woman. It turned out that that man was her husband, but she did not realize it until he had died."

"How did she figure it out?" asked Alycie.

"She told somebody her vision," said Jarae. Alycie raised an eyebrow.

"That's it? I tell somebody my visions and suddenly they will be clear?" she asked. Jarae shrugged.

"It depends who you tell it to," he said. "Somebody who has been through most of your same journey would recognize certain aspects and would probably be able to explain how they relate to you. But if you tell a complete stranger, it is not as likely that as much of the vision would be deciphered."

"How do I know this will work?" asked Alycie.

"Well, have you told anybody any one of your visions yet?" asked Jarae. Alycie reflected. She hadn't.

"No...I mean I wrote two poems once that seemed...prophetic, but we couldn't understand them."

"Sometimes the visions are of things to come, and so they cannot be deciphered right away," said Jarae. He lifted his hand off of the onyx stone. "It is late. Go. Your bandages need changing, and then you may find Elian and he will help you get food. Goodnight, Alycie."

"Goodnight, and thank you, Jarae," said Alycie. He nodded with a smile and Alycie could have sworn his eyes flicked to meet hers briefly, but she dismissed the movement for a trick of the light and swept out of the tent.

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**REVIEW! A LOT!**


	11. The Interpreter and the Murderer

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Here's the action chapter. I'm back for three more days before a long, six-week vacation! Then I shall return! Really I can't finish this fic until the third book is released (September!!!), but I'll get as far as I can. Unfortunately, Murtagh will not rejoin Alycie until the end. The. End. I will continue to alternate chapters in between Garrick, Murtagh, and Alycie, but the latter two will not rejoin until the big climactic end. Just telling you now so you all can stop asking. If this changes, I won't alert you for the shock factor's benefit. Anyway, UK was great but it's good to be back and typing. Voila!**

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Alycie got food before going to Bahri's tent in contradiction to Jarae's suggestion. She thought nothing of it though as she tore off a chunk of well-roasted meat in her mouth. Desert rat surprised her with its deliciousness. She lifted the flap of Bahri's tent and strode inside.

"Back for a bandage change?" asked the dusty-haired elf, gesturing for her to sit on the raised mat. Alycie nodded, taking her seat and pulling off her shirt. Bahri slowly began to unwrap her bandages. Alycie stared at the floor for a moment.

"Have you ever heard of anyone called Stronghammer?" she asked after a moment. Bahri glanced at her with pale eyes.

"No. Why?" he asked. Alycie opened her mouth, closed it, and shrugged instead.

"No reason. I heard the name somewhere," she said. Bahri dropped the dirty, yellow and red bandages to the floor and took out a new roll, starting to wind it around her ribcage. "Can you see my visions if you look in my mind?"

"I believe so," said Bahri.

"Have you yet?" asked Alycie, her eyes narrowing.

"No, but I am sorely tempted to."

"Could you tell me what they mean if you did?" Bahri looked up at her.

"I could try," he said. Alycie bit her lip. "Do you wish me to?" asked Bahri.

"Please," said Alycie, nodding. Bahri tied off her bandage, then held her wrists and closed his eyes.

Alycie didn't feel him enter her mind. She was about to ask him to when suddenly a familiar scene clouded her mind's eye. It was the first premonition since the Twins broke through and released her magic. The poems.

_Two falen do  
A vixen spy  
And draw their bows  
Let arrows fly  
One doth meet heart  
The other head  
But dog bites one  
And renders dead  
_

_A ghost it seems  
In armor clad  
Is chained to one  
Who is but mad  
With shining blade  
And palm as well  
It fights the first  
On plains of hell_

The poems were replaced by a speeding version of the first vision she had experienced during her time with the Varden. The dark knight by the pool of water. He issued two words in the ancient language then threw his head skyward demanding to know who it was that was scrying him.

_On thieving heel  
The fox must fly  
With cloak and dagger  
To bare the lie_

Another poem. She had heard it after the Battle of Farthen Dûr. Then it was the reoccurring dream with the soldiers and the Rider. The Rider pounded the captain's face again and again...the blonde woman and the dark-haired man, the mountain man knealing before the Emperor, the war, the drunken man threw his sword at the frightened young, dark-haired boy...

_A Rider of gold  
A city of old  
A raven crows riddles  
So secrets unfold_

The man and his red-haired love as they were attacked by the Ra'zac. The voice...

The tent swam back into view. Alycie's head felt dizzy and she realized she hadn't been breathing. She struggled to inhale and her breath came in long and ragged. She looked down at Bahri to find him unrolling another bandage. He removed the one wrapped around her head and replaced it silently.

"What do you think?" asked Alycie.

"I heard the Falen mentioned," said Bahri. Alycie raised an eyebrow.

"When?"

"_Two falen do  
A vixen spy  
And draw their bows  
Let arrows fly  
One doth meet heart  
The other head  
But dog bites one  
And renders dead_," recited Bahri. Alycie's mouth dropped open.

"You're right...I didn't see that before..." She looked at the elf. "Do you know what it means?"

"No," said Bahri. "I will think about the others. A few mention a new Rider. One under Galbatorix's control. And there was a war in one...I am not certain. Give me time to think and I will tell you what I find out."

"Thank you," said Alycie. "Am I done here?"

"Yes, you are," said Bahri, his mouth stretching in a smile.

"Alright then," said Alycie, standing. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"I'll do what I can," Bahri replied. Alycie ducked out under the tent flap and walked away.

It was a few minutes before she realized that something was amiss. She listened for a moment, her body rigid and frozen in apprehension. There were no drums. There was indeed a fire, but there were no drums. Alycie wound between the tents, her pace quickening to a run. Tents shot past her as she dove around corners. Her feet slid across the sand and she fell, only to scramble back to her feet and press on.

Alycie staggered out into the circular clearing where the fire pit had been dug. A tall, flickering fire had been built already, but there was nobody to watch it burn. The campsite seemed suddenly abandoned. Voices broke in upon her ears suddenly. Voices crying out in fear. Screaming.

Figures suddenly ran from between the tents across the clearing. Alycie sprinted around the bonfire, dodging the running Falen. She caught a tanned woman by the wrist as she ran, pulling her back.

"What's going on?" she shouted over the chaos. The woman's eyes were wide.

"War! It's a war between the heirs!" she uttered through clenched teeth. She pulled away and sprinted off with the rest of the crowd.

The clanging crash of metal on metal caught Alycie's attention and she ran towards it with a new fear rising. Her freshly bandaged ribs burned in protest to the strong movements, but she ignored the pain. She was listening hard, her ears poised to pick up a fatal scream of agony through the sounds of the swords. The line of tents ended and Alycie dodged a few running Falen, her eyes widening at the scene before her.

Two crowds of Falen soldiers were facing each other, one headed by Elian, the other by the elder son of Kahz, Nédan. Each was backed by ten men at least. Alycie could make out Talis positioned close to Elian's right side. Both groups had their curved swords out and were breathing hard. Alycie spotted scratches and bruises forming on several men. They seemed to be at a lapse in the fight.

"Nédan," Elian was saying, "I don't wish to fight you."

"Then you are a coward as well!" spat the son of Kahz. "He brings a sorceress of unknown origin in to break our peace and you wish to let him lead us still? To hold our lives in his hand while he makes rash decisions?" He did not look away from Elian's ice blue eyes as he addressed the surrounding crowd. Elian stared stonily back, but a Falen quickly ran out from behind him to join Nédan's posse.

"She is not dangerous and she does not mean harm."

"But how can you know? How can any of us know?"

"Bahri seems to trust her well enough," said Elian.

"_Bahri_," snorted Nédan derisively. "He could have been deluded by magic to favor her. Or seduced by...other means." Nédan's eyebrow raised. "He _was_ looking after her injuries, after all, and women have their ways..." Another two men swapped loyalties.

"She was in Urgal captivity," said Elian, his voice growing stronger, or, Alycie feared, more desperate. "We would have had to be as cruel as Galbatorix himself to leave her in their hands!" Alycie watched gratefully as one of Nédan's men crossed to Elian's side. Nédan didn't seem to notice. He was laughing; a low, chuckling rumble that carried to Alycie's ears.

"You are not fit to succeed Jarae," he said, his voice cold and uncannily reminiscent of his father's. "You are not fit to lead the Falen. You bring witches into our midst and risk our legions against the Kull in Galbatorix's service. I won't let you lead our tribe to destruction. I'm not going to wait for Jarae Whiteyes to make his decision. We are ending this here and now!"

He lunged forward, his hand drawing the sword to Elian's neck, but steel met steel as his opponent reacted and blocked. Nédan jerked his weapon back and jabbed again, but once again his sword was met. The two crowds had begun to converge, but the two fighters shouted out in protest.

"No! He's mine!" commanded Nédan.

"It's between us alone!" said Elian. The crowds backed away and spread to form a circle around the two heirs and Alycie's view was blocked. The clangs resumed as she took a step closer.

"Stay back," said a cool voice in her ear. Alycie looked up to see Bahri, calm and pale, standing with his eyes on the crowd. "When you are the cause of a fight, you don't want to approach it."

"Can't you stop them?" asked Alycie in concern. Bahri looked from them to her.

"I'll get Jarae," he said, and disappeared into the tents. Alycie turned her eyes back to the fight.

Elian and Nédan were fighting at their full strength, neither holding anything back. Alycie was surprised at Elian's ferocity. He seemed to have snapped. She watched as he lunged forward at Nédan and dealt a rough blow with the hilt of his sword. Fresh rage was driving both sides. Elian looked as if he were possessed. Alycie had never seen him in such a rage. His movements were almost too fast to follow and she could see the fear in Nédan's eyes behind his anger.

Nédan swiped and missed. He drew his blade along back. Another miss. Someone ran past Alycie towards the fight and it took her a moment to recognize him to be Saleo. He was shouting something, pushing his way through the crowd. Alycie ran after him, calling a warning. Her eyes flicked to the fight. Nédan missed a third time and pulled his weapon back. His chest was wide open, undefended. Victory shone in Elian's eyes as he drew his blade back.

"Elian! Don--"

The sword lurched forward in a thrust and the cry broke off. Nédan's eyes were wide, but it was not his blood hitting the sand. Elian released the hilt of his sword in horror, his face frozen.

Saleo looked down with wide, confused eyes, at the hilt sticking out of his middle. Blood filled his mouth, staining his teeth as he overbalanced and fell sideways, eyes still wide. Elian wasn't moving. His eyes were fixed upon Saleo's shocked face. His hands were by his side, shaking. Alycie watched from the crowd with wide, glassy eyes. Her legs were frozen to the sand. She realized he wasn't breathing and drew a shuddering breath, watching distantly as Nédan fell upon his brother, crying out.

Saleo's sea-blue eyes moved to Nédan's, locking on them for a single moment. A constricted breath left his throat and he was gone. Nédan shook his head, yelling apology after apology into Saleo's face. He ran a hand roughly through his dead brother's sandy hair, brushing it back off of his forehead as he began to rock back and forth. Then he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, shouting. After a minute or so, he stopped, laying his brother back onto the sand. His shoulders racked in a sob as his fingers drifted over Saleo's forehead, drawing the eyelids over the glassy, lifeless eyes.

"Murderer..." he said in a constricted voice. The other men stood like stone statues, looking down at Saleo's corpse, but at the word all of their eyes turned unto Elian. Alycie's were among them. Elian's legs suddenly became loose, making him stagger. He looked unstable, as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff with his back to the bottomless abyss behind him. And Nédan was getting to his feet, grabbing the sword in Saleo's middle.

"What's going on here?" ordered a gruff voice from behind Alycie. The crowd turned and parted immediately as they recognized Kahz. All eyes followed him as he moved the dark caves of his eyes over the faces in the crowd, then Elian, Nédan, and finally Saleo's body. He stopped in his tracks, staring. His eyes stared for a long time at the face of his youngest son before they moved to the elder's. "What happened?" His voice was no longer gruff, but weak and shaking.

"Elian killed Saleo," said Nédan, his fingers tightening on the hilt of the sword that had murdered his brother. "He killed him. Saleo's dead! Murdered!" Kahz's eyes now moved to Elian, and a rage had twisted his features to unrecognizable proportions.

"_You_!" he growled. "You! You killed my...my..." His face went pale, and then purple as his feet regained movement, carrying him to the center of the circle.

"Kahz," came a voice.

Jarae was there, Bahri at his side. His eyes were staring at some point off in the distance, but Bahri had his fixed on the corpse in the sand. He was muttering quietly into the old man's ear. Jarae went very still, even as Bahri finished speaking to him. His face filled with a great sadness that diminished his authority and made him look older and more fragile than Alycie had ever seen him. Then his sightless eyes turned directly to were Elian stood.

"Elian, son of Nalia, my daughter, and carrier of my blood, in light of...this _heartless_ act of violence and rage, you are hereby exiled from the Falen. You are a murderer of my kin, and shall be branded as such!" With these last words, Jarae raised his hand. A shock of light split the night and Elian cried out in pain suddenly, clutching the right side of his face. Jarae was a mask of authority and power now, nearly unrecognizable as the kindly old man he had been mere hours before. Elian's groans of agony did not phase him in the slightest. "You may take your horse, but all else shall be retained by the Falen. Also, as she was in your charge, Alycie must leave us as well. Go now and leave us!"

Elian looked around with his left eye, his face pleading. He approached the crowd that had backed him before, but they stepped back with stony faces. He walked to Talis imploringly, but she stepped away as well, her face matching those around her. Elian walked through the parting in the crowd, reaching Jarae.

"Please," he said, his voice breaking. The man did not move a muscle. Bahri looked at him with a sorrowful, yet calm, face. He did not move. It was then that Elian spotted a familiar face behind the leader. His uncle and guardian. "Oedän," he said, stepping forward. "I swear, I didn't mean to. It was an accident. Please, believe me!" The old man did not look up from the sand. Elian took his shoulders, shaking him. "Don't send me away! My only home is with the Falen! Don't--" Oedän grasped his nephew's wrists and pulled them off of his shoulders, pushing him away. Elian stared around, grunting as the pain enveloped his face again. He looked lost. Abandoned.

"Go," Jarae said shortly over Kahz's fresh sobs that had begun to break the silence. Elian stood stock still for a moment longer. He stared at the old, blind man.

"Alycie," he said, not looking away. Alycie detached herself from the crowd and walked slowly to his side. Elian turned away from his tribe and set off around the camp of tents. The girl glanced back one last time at the Hadarac natives before following Elian to the stables.

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	12. The Exiled and the Enlightenment

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**I've got a supercool plan now. Sorry for the wait. Camp rocked and all, but it left me dry for ideas for a good week or two. Now you get a short chapter I wrote in one hour and I will add more over the next few days. I'm back on track, people! **

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The fire flickered with a cheer not shared by the two bodies it warmed. Its red and gold flames reflected off of their glassy, staring eyes in the darkness. Only one pair was fixed on the fire. The other was focused on the companion's.

"Edan, I'm sorry," said Alycie. The Falen didn't look up.

"It wasn't your fault," he replied. "It was bound to happen eventually, whether you were present or not. The tension has been building for months. It was bound to boil over soon."

"I didn't think Jarae would banish you though," said Alycie. "It wasn't your fault. It was an accident. Nédan was the one who started--"

"Nédan's brother, my friend, is dead now because of me," interrupted Elian stonily. "I've never seen Jarae look like that. Speak to me that way. I'm surprised he banished me. I deserve worse. I deserve to be executed at Kahz's sword. It is our way. The way of our clan."

"So...so he let you leave instead of killing you?" asked Alycie, her brow furrowing.

"Yes. Why though? Jarae would not have displayed favoritism, no matter who had wronged," said Elian, his icy-blue eyes connecting with Alycie's. They widened as his mouth dropped open in slow comprehension. "What if he meant for me to help you with the Riders?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?" asked Alycie. Elian no longer looked sullen. His face was alive with amazement.

"Jarae knew. He _knew_ I wanted to get out. He gave me what I _wanted_." He was practically jumping out of his shoes with joy.

"You wanted to be exiled?" asked Alycie.

"No, no. That was their reason. He wouldn't have let me leave the clan under normal circumstances. It's forbidden and looked down upon. Not to mention that it would break the oath we gave. No, he had to punish me to get me out. I just had to...to kill someone..." He went sober in an instant. "He knew a fight would result of the rivalry."

"Well...while you're with me, you can help me think of a plan," said Alycie, changing the subject. It seemed a good idea to keep Elian preoccupied. It would lessen the pain. She knew. Her time with the Falen had numbed her broken, bleeding heart for a time, but it was throbbing now like never before. She too needed a distraction.

"Tell me about the Riders. Where were you going when I first saw you? Who was the other one with you? Where did they go? Why were you captured? Was there a war? Where is Galbatorix?" asked Elian in a rush. Alycie tossed a spare twig into the fire and sighed.

"I suppose you need to know, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I believe I do," said Elian, smirking eagerly. Alycie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Get comfortable. I have a long tale to tell," she said.

Alycie talked. She told him everything. Memories rose in her mind as she spoke them. Her life in Dras-Leona, her escape, the journey to the Varden, her time there, the battle, the ambush...everything except Murtagh's background.

"Should we start towards the Varden then?" asked Elian in the near-pitch blackness. The fire had since burned to a few smoldering embers that glowed red amongst the ashes.

"No," said Alycie. "They won't help us--"

"Help us do what?" asked Elian. Alycie hesitated.

"I need to get into Urû'baen," she said finally. A long silence followed her statement.

"That's where Galbatorix is, isn't it," said Elian. It wasn't a question. "His homestead."

"Yes," said Alycie.

"Why do you need to get in?" asked Elian. Alycie paused again. She couldn't tell him about Murtagh. She couldn't.

"There are three dragon eggs remaining since Galbatorix's takeover," said Alycie. "A blue, that's Eragon's, a red, that's been hatched and the Rider is work...is under Galbatorix's control, and the third is green. And it is sitting inside Galbatorix's castle, waiting for the right person to touch it."

"And...we are going to..."

"Steal it. Break in and take it, then alert the Varden," said Alycie. "We can't afford for Galbatorix to gain control of two Riders. That would mean the end of us all."

"And how hard is it going to be to break in?" asked Elian. Alycie closed her eyes and bit her lip.

"Unimaginably difficult," she said. "Unless you have an unexplainable ability to turn invisible or fly to unguarded windows. Or if you can see through walls, for that matter, so we can avoid being caught."

"I can't do those," said Elian, "but I can help you break in anyway. A soon as we get there, we'll map out the castle and find a way in."

"There's another issue," said Alycie. "I've been branded 'wanted alive or dead' in every city and town in Alagaësia. Everyone will be on the lookout for me."

"Disguise yourself," replied Elian with a shrug. "Cut your hair, hide your face, and don't speak to anyone you've ever met before."

"That simple, huh?" asked Alycie. She heard Elian chuckle. "Where are we anyway? In the Hadarac?"

"We're in the southeast," replied Elian. "Close to the town of...umm...Petrøvya, I believe. We'll head there first?"

"First thing in the morning," said Alycie. "But for now we need to sleep."

"Don't stop talking yet," said Elian, a twinge of anxiety in his voice. Alycie hesitated, knowing the nightmares that awaited her companion.

"You have to face them sooner or later," she told him, empathy ringing in every word. A silence answered her.

"Goodnight then," said a far more serious voice, deep and dry.

"Goodnight, Elian," said Alycie. She waited a moment before reclining onto the sand and closing her eyes.

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	13. The Bond and the Broken Riddles

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**After a brilliant, four-hour pondering session with a good friend of mine, Onashii, I believe I have the rest of **_**Circumstantial Consequence**_** mapped out sufficiently. Or enough in broadness to get the plot going well once they hit Urû'baen. Now it's sort of broad. The mental link with Roran is beginning to annoy me, so I might cut it off soon. Who knows.**

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Flashes of trees passed through Alycie's vision. A boulder, a cliff, more trees. The distant mountains rose to meet the pale gray sky. A staff met the ground. A great exodus of people walked through the underbrush, clambering over rocks, and tripping over tree roots.

_'If we keep our trail...we should be able to make it a while...well, before we'll have to stray to lose potential trackers...Katrina...'_

_'And the voice returns...'_ thought Alycie.

_'Oh not now. Look Vixen, I'm not exactly in the mood to experience insanity at the moment.'_

_'You think I can control this? I've been traveling for two full days without rest. I need sleep if I'm going to find my way to Urû'baen!'_ retorted Alycie. She immediately felt the regret of leasing this information to the anonymous voice. Another tree passed by.

_'You are going to Urû'baen?'_ inquired the voice. _'I doubt you are going there for a simple visit.'_

_'How sharp-minded you are,'_ thought Alycie wryly. _'Maybe I'd be able to sleep sounder if the trees weren't passing so fast._ Stronghammer did not respond for a moment.

_'You see trees?'_ he asked.

_'Yes.'_

_'You are asleep?'_

_'Yes, but not for long, I fear,'_ responded Alycie.

_'Then you can see where I am when I am conscious?'_ asked Stronghammer, his voice hostile.

_'I can see you're around some trees with a bunch of people. I can't tell much from that, can I?'_ said Alycie.

_'You can see the others?'_ Stronghammer's voice contained a note of panic. Alycie paused.

_'Yes, I can,'_ she admitted. Stronghammer sighed mentally. Alycie pitied him. He sounded exhausted through their bond.

_'This...connection we have, this link, should not be discussed with outsiders. I'm sure there are things we would both want kept quiet, and I propose that we agree not to expose each other.'_

_'Agreed,'_ said Alycie.

Her eyes opened. Sand stuck to her face as she lifted her head from the ground to look around. The sun had barely risen and Elian was digging swiftly through the loose sand. Alycie watched him for a moment before he stood back and led the horses forward, patting their necks as they drank from the hole.

"An oasis?" Elian looked up.

"You're awake. I thought you would sleep longer," he said. Alycie got to her feet.

"That habit's been gone for months," she said. "Unfortunately."

_'Are you in the Hadarac?'_

Alycie nearly fell over. Elian stared at her with wary, icy eyes. She brushed her hair back and tried to slow her racing heartbeat.

"Sorry...lost my balance. We'd better start off soon...I think we should head for Furnost first to gather supplies." Elian nodded, turning back to the horses, who were still drinking greedily from the small oasis. Alycie bit her lip.

_'How are you still talking to me? I'm awake!'_

_'Our bond isn't limited to states of unconsciousness. You can see where I am; I can do the same to you.'_

_'Try and remain in your side of our bond, if you don't mind. I can't concentrate on two places at once.'_

_'You think it's easy for me?'_

"Shut up!" yelled Alycie. She froze, looking at Elian. He was staring at her with a mixture of wariness, concern, and worry.

"I didn't say anything," he said slowly. Alycie swallowed, then strode forward.

"Can you move the horses? I need a drink," she said, knealing by the hole and reaching to scoop the water up to her mouth. "The sooner we're in a town, the better. I think the heat is starting to affect me..."

"We can only go so fast, but we're only a day's travel away from Furnost," said Elian. "We'll be there by nightfall."

"Great, we can stock up today and leave for Urû'baen tomorrow," said Alycie. Elian looked concerned.

"Do you think you can travel with your injuries?" he asked. Alycie hesitated, then reached up and removed the bandage from around her head.

"_Waíse heill_," she said, holding a hand to her head. She felt the wound heal as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She ignored it and dropped the dirty bandage to the ground. "That's the only injury I have to worry about. My ribs will be healed in no time."

"If you say so," said Elian. He stared at her for another moment. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Yes," said Alycie, trying to sound sincere. The voice of Stronghammer was beginning to wear her nerves a bit, and her anxiety about Murtagh had increased since they had left the Falen. In truth, she was far from alright, but they had to get a move on. She climbed up onto her steed's back as Elian mounted his. He turned and began heading southwest at a gallop, and Alycie followed close behind.

_'These mountains will be the death of me..._' The thought of Stronghammer echoed through her mind.

_'At least you're not riding horses over dunes,'_ Alycie replied.

_'So you _are_ in the Hadarac.'_

_'Yes, and you are in the Spine.'_

_'How do you know?'_

_'The mountains in your sight are not nearly as tall as the Beors.'_

_'You have seen the Beors? The Beors, the Hadarac...I'm jealous. You must travel quite extensively,'_ said Stronghammer.

_'I suppose I have...'_ mused Alycie. It had only been for a year. Before then she had been just another ignorant soul stuck in a life of slavery in Dras-Leona.

_'Walking on an endless trail doesn't have the same novelty as wandering through notable areas like the Beors, though it seems,'_ noted Stronghammer.

_'I'd envy the endless trail if I were back in the Beors at the time I was there, though,'_ said Alycie. They had been being chased by Kull, carrying the nearly dead Arya to an unknown destination with limited time to get there. The pressure had been unimaginable. She and Murtagh had been planning to escape before they reached the Varden. They had planned to journey to Surda...to start a new life together... _'Tell me, Stronghammer. Do you like riddles?'_

_'Why?'_

_'I have one that may take all of your concentration to solve.'_

_'I will try.'_

Alycie took a breath, recalling the words in her mind. She repeated them over the link.

_'Two falen do _

_A vixen spy_

_And draw their bows_

_Let arrows fly_

_One doth meet heart_

_The other head_

_But dog bites one_

_And renders dead.'_

"Alycie."

Blue eyes opened. Elian rode on the steed in front of her still, though he was looking back over his shoulder at her. She blinked.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You were drifting off course," said Elian. "Were you sleeping?"

"No," said Alycie hurriedly. "No, I was...thinking."

"Don't think too hard or you'll fall off of your horse," said Elian. A grin split his face. Alycie snorted and watched her companion until he no longer had his eyes on her. She closed her eyes once more.

_'This is not fair. It is not a normal riddle,'_ said Stronghammer.

_'The Falen are a tribe, if that helps,'_ said Alycie. Stronghammer did not answer for a moment.

_'So two of these...men, I suppose...see a vixen. They both shoot it, one in the heart, the other in the head. And the vixen's mate kills one,'_ came the reply.

_'The vixen's mate?'_ inquired Alycie.

_'I suppose. A dog is a male fox.'_ Alycie froze. The vixen's mate. The Falen. Stronghammer had called her a vixen.

"It does apply to me..." she whispered to herself.

_'Are you sure the Falen shoot the vixen?'_ she asked.

_'What else could they mean?_'

_'Well...what if the vixen was a human?'_

_'Then...I suppose it would mean that one Falen would shoot the arrow of friendship, and the other the arrow of love.'_ Alycie seemed to be shocked. _'This is not a very good riddle. There are too many possibilities. What is the answer?'_ asked Stronghammer.

_'I don't know, myself,'_ replied Alycie.

Alycie did not know what to do. Two Falen...which two Falen? They had to be two she knew. One was a friend...but the other she loved. And Murtagh would kill one. When though? Where? Why? Something nagged at the back of Alycie's mind. Another vision riddle.

_On thieving heel_

_The fox must fly_

_With cloak and dagger_

_To bare the lie_

The fox. That was her. She was to steal the egg. She was to make a truth known. She had no cloak and dagger...'cloak and dagger'. She would escape with concealment. Alycie gasped to herself. She had experienced this already. Had she not escaped from the Twins with concealment? Was she not on her way to steal from the Emperor and reveal the truth about the Twins' treachery to the Varden?

Now that the visions weren't visions anymore, Alycie felt strangely exposed. Wariness enveloped her mind. Her premonitions were coming true too quickly for comfort.

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	14. The Village and the 'Villainous'

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Finally I can reach an interesting part. Those travel sequences wear me out. I think I'll fast forward through them soon. Or just abbreviate them. It's hard to equalize this timeline to **_**Eldest**_**'s, seeing as nobody is completely sure how long it is between the beginning and the end. I'm guessing three months. And I'd say that a month has passed since the kidnapping. Just making it known where we are in the story. Equivalent with page…403, to my estimation. Okay, the timeline is screwy and it will remain screwy. Whatever will be will be. Enjoy.**

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It was nightfall when they finally reached Petrøvya. It had taken longer than Alycie had thought. She and Elian had left the sands behind four days previously and they had seen nothing but grassy plains since. But now they rode along a hill, looking down at the tranquil settlement.

The lights from the small town reflected off of the black water of the great lake Tüdosten, as if a necklace of pearl-like stars had fallen and broken on the bank. Alycie took in the sight with gratitude. Her mind had been for the most part silent for three hours, and she was savoring every moment. She hadn't realized how much of a sanctuary her mind had been before Stronghammer.

Elian hadn't said much that day. He seemed lost in his thoughts, as Alycie assumed she must have been, talking with her voice and all, but his face had been stony, as if he were reliving his guilty crime. Alycie felt for him. She had done her own share of crimes, but none of them prayed on her. Perhaps because the future allowed no room for the past in her dreams. But then, she hadn't killed her friend.

"What _are_ those?" asked Elian. Alycie looked back at him. He had stopped his horse on the hill and was staring down at the sea of lights.

"Candles..." said Alycie. Elian shook his head.

"Not those. The...those aren't tents, are they?" He pointed. Alycie's eyebrows rose.

"They're houses," she said, surprised. Elian looked at her.

"Houses?" he repeated. Alycie blinked.

"Town people don't live in tents," she said. "They live in houses made of wood. You know. Trees." Elian shook his head. Alycie was amazed, but she said nothing.

"You should disguise yourself now, while we're still far away," said Elian.

"Right," said Alycie. She reached down and pulled a knife out of her boot. Talis had given it to her since her sword had been taken when she was captive.

She felt Elian's eyes on her as she gathered up her long hair in a fist and sawed it off. She dropped the heap to the ground and ran a hand through her sheared locks. The uneven ends barely grazed her shoulders. She tore a strip of cloth off of her sleeve and tied the sandy blonde strands back out of her face.

"Are you trying to look like a man?" asked Elian. Alycie shrugged.

"I'm trying to not look like myself," she replied. Elian crossed his arms, watching her as she slipped her knife back down by her ankle. She straightened and took her horse's reins once more. Elian looked back at the town, his face stony.

"I don't know what to do. Outsiders are strangers to me," he said.

"Let me talk and act for the both of us, then," said Alycie. Elian nodded, spurring his steed on. Alycie dug her heels into the chestnut beast's sides and they galloped down the hill towards the glow of lights.

Petrøvya had no wall around it. No wall meant no guards. Alycie took this as a blessing, but still hid her face in the depths of a hood. Behind her, Elian rode silently, though when she glanced at him, she could still see the wonder and curiosity in his eyes. They only had to ride a short time within the village, pausing only to rip a few wanted posters off of a house, before an inn caught their attention.

Alycie hesitated outside of it, holding up a hand for Elian to halt as well. She turned her steed and trotted back to his side.

"Do you have any means for currency?" she asked. "Gold? Silver? Gems? Anything remotely close to crowns?"

"Currency?" asked Elian. Alycie paused. Of course Elian wouldn't know about currency. The Falen were a legion. What they hunted, they ate as one. What they gathered, they shared. There was no need for trade.

"Do you have anything shiny?" Alycie clarified after a moment. Elian furrowed his brow, but reached into his pack and drew out several rubies. Alycie took them and dismounted, leading her horse to the stables. Elian followed suit.

In the shady pub that made up the ground floor of the inn, Alycie and Elian sat at a table shrouded in shadows in the corner, each with a drink. Alycie pulled sheets of parchment out of her pocket and spread it out on the wooden surface between them, shuffling through until she withdrew the one she was looking for, then placing it on top.

"Here's the wanted poster they have of me," she said, examining the sketched portrait of herself with thoughtfulness. "They've raised the price..." she added to herself in an undertone. Elian examined the paper with great interest.

"This is how they track criminals?" he asked. "That...that's smart. So then people would be on the lookout everywhere?"

"Yes," said Alycie. "Which isn't good for me. We'll have to wake up early, buy a good amount of supplies, and then hightail it out of here before people wake up enough to orientate themselves." Elian nodded, then looked back at the posters. He reached underneath Alycie's and drew out a portrait of a brunette young man. The posted price below the picture was unbelievably high.

"This is the Rider," he said in awe. Alycie was briefly reminded of Ferros's idolatry of Eragon back in Farthen Dûr. She nodded.

"Yeah...he's their prime target," she said. Elian glanced at her.

"Is the other man you were with wanted too?" he asked. Alycie hesitated, and then nodded. She shuffled through the papers, looking for Murtagh's face.

"He's not on any of these," she said, a note of confusion in her voice. Then Elian voiced her fears.

"Does that mean they caught him?"

Alycie froze, her eyes on the papers. Murtagh must have reached Galbatorix. The posters would not have been torn down unless Galbatorix himself had Murtagh screaming in his dark clutches. The reality of this hit Alycie like a ton of bricks. She tried to hide the blow it caused.

"Y...Yes, it does," she choked out. She shuffled through the pile again, as if wishing to see a poster with her beloved's brooding face, with a caption reading, 'Newly escaped, highly dangerous!'. But there was none. Instead, the picture of another brunette man caught her eye. He was clean-shaven with a strong jaw, and dark eyes. In the place where the name was written, a single word stood out in bold capital letters.

_**STRONGHAMMER**_

"It's him..." said Alycie, nonplussed. Her eyes roved the picture. He fit his voice, she thought. Strong. But he was so young. The voice in her head always struck her as older. Older and more tired than the voice of any young man such as this.

"That man behind the bar keeps looking over here," murmured Elian darkly. Alycie looked up, staring at the reflection on the window in front of her. Indeed, the burly old innkeeper was shooting glance after glance their way, each one layered with more suspicion than its predecessor. Alycie got to her feet.

"Come on. Time to retire," she said. Elian stood as well and the two of them sauntered to the stairs and discreetly ascended.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

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	15. The Jewel and the Jailer

**Dislcaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Here's a different sort of chapter than the endless travel. I know you want Murtagh badly, but it is crucial that I not stray from my set plot or else it will take longer to remedy my changes. I am going to go ahead and warp the time issue since Eragon's time away isn't set to a specific amount of time. I'll just write out this part as I see it happen and I'll use time transitions. Anyway, this chapter includes no travel and I believe the monotony will be rather muted soon. Hopefully I'll get to the good parts within the next few weeks. Who knows.**

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Alycie found herself being rudely awakened earlier than she would have liked the next morning. At first she had thought it was Elian trying to make her miserable, but when several pairs of hands pulled her to her feet and locked her arm painfully behind her back, that particular possibility was ruled out. Light eyes opened in time to see a large, unpleasant-looking man with arms rippling with muscles push a shirtless Elian out of the door of the room into the hallway. The two men holding her did the same.

She felt splinters litter her side as she collided with the wall opposite the room, but the men grabbed her arms once again and forced her down the hall and down the stairs. The innkeeper wasn't in the bar as he had been the night before, but Alycie only had a glance to find this out because after reaching the foot of the stairs, it was out the door with them.

Petrøvya wasn't a big town. In fact it was so small that just looking at it would give someone the impression that it was innocent and nonviolent. Apparently this expectation did not extend to its inhabitants, Alycie thought to herself as the men forced her to her knees outside on the dirt road. The other men did the same to Elian several feet away. The innkeeper stood before them, livid with anger

"What is this you try and pay me with?" he demanded angrily. "A beetle?" Alycie looked at Elian. He was panting with the effort of trying to fight off the men in futility. She looked back at the innkeeper. Between his fingers was what looked like a crushed ruby. Alycie squinted and her jaw dropped as she noticed two small round ebony eyes and several red sticklike limbs poking out from the squashed form at odd angles.

"Varris! I've seen this one before!" exclaimed one of the men holding Elian, hyper extending the Falen's neck. He grimaced in pain. The man cocked his head to the side. "He looks like that desert rat that wandered in years ago!" The innkeeper, Varris, strode over. The man turned Elian's head to the side. Varris's brow raised.

"He does," he said. "I'll bet Eiketo sees the similarity too."

"Mad old buzzard..." muttered one of the men holding Alycie under his breath. Varris raised a hand and pointed off into the village.

"Take them!" he commanded. Alycie and Elian were lifted to their feet and shoved towards a cluster of tall stone buildings.

Alycie had seen all sorts of prisons. She'd been kept in one for a short time as a child, right before she was sold to the governor's household. Then there was Gil'ead and the civilized prison in Farthen Dûr. Petrøvya's prison wasn't like these. It was underground.

Alycie felt a chilling fear creep up on her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, as they descended belowground. It was like being buried alive if you were in a prison in the depths of the earth. She shivered a little. She wondered how Elian was feeling.

They turned the corner and the dim light of a dirty lantern reached their eyes. Illuminated beside the source, a thin man stood. The sight of him caused another shiver to trace Alycie's spine. They stopped in front of him and Alycie got a good look. He towered at least two feet over her with long, stringy limbs sheathed by thin, dirty cloth. A thick shawl of the same material was wrapped several times around his neck and shoulders, covering the majority of his thin shirt. His hair was a stringy, matted mess of white-blonde locks mixed with dirt and sweat, hanging down to his shoulders. His face was thin and stretched, set with two wide blue eyes and a mouth distorted into a permanent smirk by a gash that extended back towards his ear. His age was indiscernible due to his strangeness, though Alycie thought he couldn't be more than five and thirty.

"New residents?" the thin man asked their bearers, showing bright yellow teeth through his lips. His voice was smooth, slightly accented with rolling _r_'s, but it carried a hint of a cackle in it that was unnerving.

"Tried to pay Varris with bugs," said one of the men. The jailer let out a high, reverberating laugh.

"Bugs? Another?"

"Yeah. They'll hang tomorrow," said on of Elian's keepers. The jailer's grin lessened, making his face look more distorted, as only one side of his mouth frowned. The gash shone red and jolly in the lamplight.

"Tomorrow? So soon..."

"Well, Varris likes his offenders to get fast punishments."

"Oh, but it's so much better to make them wait...wait and anticipate..." mused the jailer.

"It's Varris's decision how long to make his offenders wait, Eiketo, not yours," said a man. The jailer nodded sullenly, as though he had just been denied a great pleasure.

"Yes, yes, I see," he muttered, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. "Follow me."

He led them down a dark, dank hallway lined with doors. About halfway down he unlocked a door and opened it. The men holding Alycie surged forward and shoved her inside. She hit the floor hard just as the door slammed shut. After the footsteps receeded, she stood and pressed herself to the small barred window in her door.

"Elian?" she called out into the hallway. There was no answer. "Elian!?" she called again.

"Alycie?" came a nearby shout. Alycie looked down the hall where the voice had come from.

"Elian! Where are you?" she called. A tanned hand stuck out of the cell next to her. She reached out and grasped it.

"Alycie! Hold on! There's a small crack in the wall near the back!" Alycie turned and looked at the wall between their cells. It was plain and gray, but indeed there was a small chunk missing at the corner by the back wall. She crossed to it and knealed beside it. The hole was barely big enough to fit a finger through. Alycie looked into it and was met with the sight of a bright blue eye at the other end.

"Elian!" she exclaimed. "What did you pay them with? I thought it was a ruby!"

"No, I gave them a senthe," said Elian, sounding resentful.

"A senthe?"

"It's a beetle that looks like a ruby," said Elian. "The women of our tribe like them as keepsakes and young boys collect them."

"But you _paid_ with it!" yelled Alycie incredulously.

"You said to give you something _shiny_!" retorted Elian. "You didn't mention that it had to not be alive!"

"I assumed you would know that outsiders don't pay other outsiders with _bugs_!" yelled Aycie.

"Ah, shouting, shouting, always first the shouting," echoed a voice from down the corridor. Alycie's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. Light footsteps could be heard reverberating off of the stone walls.

"It's the jailer," whispered Elian through the crack. Alycie scrambled away from the wall to the opposite corner, her eyes on the barred window. A mad singsong voice reached her ears.

"_Shouting, squealing, then the screaming_

_Won't be long before they're swinging..._"

Alycie felt fear grip her throat, but she got to her feet and walked to the door, leaning her face into the bars to look out into the hallway. Eiketo's mad, grinning face swung into the bars just as Alycie leaned in. She staggered back in surprise, her eyes wide. The jailer let out a cackle, staring at her.

"Girly girly, so scared are you," he mocked. Alycie frowned at him.

"I'm not scared," she said. Eiketo's grinned, but it was more like a leer.

"Yes you are. You've been caught at last. The great criminal!"

"We paid a man with a beetle. That makes us criminals?" asked Alycie. Eiketo punched his fists into the doors and stamped his foot in sudden anger.

"No no _NO_!" he shouted. "_You_ are criminal! Not the desert rat! You! You, on the poster! You are wanted by the Empire! Oh they will be gleeful when they see you caught!" Alycie froze. The jailer was clearly mad.

"What am I wanted for? I have done nothing!" she shouted at Eiketo.

"You love the Rider! You love the Emperor's servant! That's what you are! You're his whore! You're his whore! And Morzan wants his whore!" spat the jailer through the bars, pressing his face so far into the bars that they were wearing red crevices into his skin. Alycie was speechless.

"You...Morzan is dead!" she shouted at him. Eiketo grinned so wide that the unscarred corner of his mouth extended almost as far as the scar did on the opposite side. His teeth clenched together and he let out little giggles of glee that sent shivers up Alycie's spine.

"Morzan!" he hissed through his yellow, crooked teeth. "Morzan! Morzan lives on! His blood lives on so he lives on! Murtagh Morzansson has followed the call of his blood! He rides the red lizard under the Emperor's orders just as his father did! Ooohh the suffering when he finds you hanged...oh the fury..."

"How do you know this?" asked Alycie. Eiketo's breathing grew almost inaudible as he stared at her.

"I have seen it," he whispered. "I see it...dreams...when I am awake...I see..."

Alycie felt her heartrate increase. This mad jailer saw things just as she did. He knew about her and Murtagh. He knew Murtagh's ancestry. But what he had said...Murtagh was the second Rider. And he had a red dragon.

"Oi, jailer!" shouted Elian from the next cell. Eiketo's turned with a grunt.

"Desert rat speaks. What does he want?" he muttered, his voice back in a somewhat natural tone.

"You mention that the innkeeper has been paid with a senthe before. When did it happen?" asked Elian.

"Another desert rat nigh two decades past," said Eiketo. "Looked like you. Black hair, tan, but with hazel eyes. Stayed here overnight but left around dawn. He went to Furnost and knocked up some blonde whore on the street, then wandered back into the sands he came from like the rat he was!" The grin returned at the last statement. Elian was silent. Eiketo muttered under his breath. Alycie caught a few words. "Desert rat...dishonest bits of filth spoiling our fair city...glad to be hanged..."

"Go away!" she shouted at him. The bulging eyes were on her again and the sickly grin spread.

"Filthy slaves give not the orders," he said, clicking his tongue. Alycie extended her mind out to him, approaching his consciousness. Eiketo's expression suddenly changed from amusement to furious fright and he let out a screech just as a wave of pain surged through Alycie's probe, causing her to double over and clutch her head in pain. The jailer vanished from the window, running down the hall with more echoing mad screeches. Alycie closed her eyes and sank to the floor, gritting her teeth until the pain subsided.

"Alycie, are you alright?" Elian asked from the next cell. Alycie didn't answer. Blackness was powering over her mind. She heard Elian call her name another time and then the blackness took hold.

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	16. The Musings and the Escape

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Here's Mr. Actiony Chappy! I'm gonna try to update one more time tonight before I retire to my dreams!**

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Elian was left in silence until dawn. Whatever the jailer had done, it had sent Alycie into an irrevocable sleep that lasted all day and night. No food had come. No sleep had come either. Elian was left alone with his thoughts for hours. He thought about many things. His mind drifted about, sometimes focusing on the small details of the cell, and sometimes pondering how well he had lived his life up until now, the day it would end.

He also thought about his father. They were alike. His father had wished to travel beyond the desert and see the lands that lay outside. His father had done so. His father had paid the outsiders with the shiny senthe beetles, and his father had been imprisoned in this very prison. Elian felt his insides grow cold. His father had also born a child. He had left the unborn infant with its mother in the town the jailer had mentioned, Furnost. His half-brother or sister. Elian wondered if they still lived. He wondered if they were like him. He wondered if they had known they had a brother from the Hadarac. He wondered if they would have liked him.

Elian's cold insides turned fire hot in sudden anger. Why had his father made love to this outsider? He loved Elian's mother, Nalia! They had married. Why had he left her in the desert when he ran away? Had he forgotten her entirely when he met someone new? And why had he left her afterwards? Had he not want his other child? Had he not known she was pregnant? Had he even cared if he had known?

Love. Love was something that Elian did not understand. He had loved his mother. He felt a sort of love for his father despite his resentment and reproachfulness. He loved Jarae like a grandfather; like a guide. He loved Oedän like a father and he loved Saleo like a brother. Elian hesitated. He _had_ loved Saleo like a brother. And Nédan, despite their rivalry. But the love between a man and a woman he knew not of.

Nédan had fallen in love before. Many times. He would court one girl in their tribe, and then would find another mere weeks later and would begin to court her. Saleo had loved. He had loved a girl named Colissa, who had been gifted with the skill of weaving. She could take even the most colorless, rough threads and weave a work of art the likes of which only masters could achieve. Saleo had never gotten the chance to proclaim his feelings. Now he never would.

Elian bit his tongue and leaned his head against the stone wall, fighting back a flood of emotions that coursed through his veins from his paining heart. He tried to change his thoughts. Talis. He and Talis had been companions ever since infancy. Elian's emotions subsided. He had once thought about how he felt towards her. He compared it to Saleo's descriptions of his feelings for Colissa. Then the conclusion came. Talis was a friend, a sister. She would never, nor could never, be anything more or less.

Elian scooted to the crack in the wall and put his eye to it, peering around the neighboring cell. Alycie was not in sight. If he strained his sight, he could barely see the tips of her fingers at the very edge of the hole. They did not move. She was still unconscious. Elian straightened back up, fiddling with his fingers.

Alycie was strange. She fascinated him. She had traveled with the Rider, she could use magic, and she seemed to think it was perfectly normal to do so. But there were things about her that confused him. When they had been riding from the desert to Petrøvya, she had seemed distant and preoccupied, and shouted every once in a while or muttered under her breath. Elian had ignored it, but still, it unnerved him a little. And her tales of her travels with the Rider had been lacking, as if she was keeping some part of it secret within herself. She spoke freely and eagerly about the Rider, but she seemed very reluctant to elaborate on the other man that he had seen them travel with. The man that they had left captive with the Urgals and the men Alycie had referred to as the Twins.

Then there was the jailer. Elian had heard him cackling haunting singsong rhymes down the hallway all night long. Mad things. But Alycie had not shouted at him like he was mad the previous day. She understood his rantings it seemed. And that made Elian suspicious.

He heard a groan from the crack in the wall and he scrambled over to it, pressing his lips to the hole.

"Alycie?" he said. There was a shuffling on the other side. "Alycie?" he said again, louder.

"Elian? What happened?" came Alycie's voice. Elian let out a sigh of relief.

"You're awake," he said. "I don't know what happened. The jailer screamed, then you screamed, and then you were gone."

"How long was I asleep?" asked Alycie. Elian thought.

"Hours. I would say it is almost dawn," he said.

"Dawn..." he heard her repeat.

"Yes." Elian's heart sank suddenly. "We are to be hanged soon," he said.

"Yes..." said Alycie. She sounded somewhat distant.

"What will they do exactly?"

"Pardon?"

"What is a hanging exactly? I know it is a method of killing, but..." he drifted off, feeling foolish. His ignorance of the outside world was causing him deep embarrassment at his ignorance. Alycie chuckled darkly under her breath.

"They tie a rope to a beam above your head. Then they put the rope in a loop around your neck and take the floor from beneath your feet. Then you swing til you die," she said. Elian felt fear flush through him.

"I don't know how you can talk about it so calmly," he said. Alycie was silent for a long time.

"It is because I have no reason to fear," she said after a moment. Elian furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"This is not the day we die," Alycie replied, her voice almost cheerfully certain. Elian was confused.

"You have a way out of here?" he asked.

"No."

"You have a plan?" he asked.

"Not yet," she replied.

"How will we live then?" he asked. Alycie laughed. _Laughed_.

"You will see. _Just believe me when I say, we will not meet our ends today_." Strange, thought Elian. Strange.

It was not long at all until the jailer came, accompanied by the four men from the day before. They took Alycie and Elian and tied their hands behind their backs with several feet of rope. Then they began to lead them out of the dark, underground tunnels. Alycie seemed calm and collected when Elian saw her face in the light. She seemed to almost be smiling. He certainly couldn't smile at a time like this. But she had been so certain...

When the square came into Elian's line of vision, he felt his stomach drop a few feet. In the center of the square was a platform with two beams nailed in an upside down L shape. Two ropes hung from the top beam. They were tied in loops. A small crowd of civilians was forming around the platform and Elian could see excited expressions on some faces. He tried to turn to his guards.

"This is barbaric! You tie our necks and drop us? It's absolutely monstrous!" he shouted. One of the men laughed.

"Look here! The barbarian calls _us_ barbaric!" he shouted above the jeering of the crowd. Elian was about to retort when he was pushed onto the stares. One of the men kicked him and pulled him to his feet once more, shoving him up onto the platform. They positioned him underneath one of the ropes and secured the loop around his neck, tightening it for good measure. Elian looked over the crowd, his face contorted in incredulous outrage. They weren't even the least bit angry or upset about the method in which they were killing the two criminals. Their faces reminded Elian of the cheery faces of his fellow Falen around the tribal bonfire every night. It made him sick that these people came together through murdering others. He looked at Alycie.

His companion was still calm, though her eyes were shifting restlessly through the people in the crowd. She looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile that caught his attention before her eyes went back to their frantic search. One of the men walked to the vertical beam on the platform and the people began to chant something that Elian couldn't understand. The man pulled on two black gloves and a matching hood that covered all but his mouth and eyes in ebony cloth. In the back of the crowd, Elian could see the jailer with his scarred mouth twisted in an angry frown as he watched the platform with intense disapproval. Or disappointment.

The hooded man raised a hand towards a wooden lever. Elian looked at his feet. There was a faint line in a box shape around where he stood. He looked up at the sky. If he was going to die, the last thing he saw sure wasn't going to be a crowd of barbarians or a wooden platform. He heard the man grasp the lever and pull just as a cry from Alycie reached his ears.

"_JIERDA!_" she cried as the trapdoors beneath their feet gave way.

Elian forced his eyes on the sky as he fell, waiting for the jerk of the rope around his neck. The rope instead snapped and both he and Alycie fell to the cobblestones beneath the platform. Elian lay stunned on the street as the crowd registered what had just happened, but Alycie was already scrambling to her knees, focusing her sight on two men in the front of the crowd.

"_GATH SEM SVERDAR UN LAM IET!_" she cried. Two swords hanging from the men's belts suddenly flew out of their sheaths and reached Alycie's hands just as she cried, "_Jierda_," a second time, severing the ropes on her wrists. Elian flipped over and Alycie cut his ropes with a quick swipe, tossing him a sword. He caught it and together they ran out of the back of the platform, ducking to avoid the men that sprang at them with outstretched arms.

"Where are we going?" shouted Elian. He noticed that Alycie was panting hard as she ran.

"The stables! At the inn! We're getting out of town!" she shouted between breaths.

The stables grew into their sight and Elian could just make out the two chestnut steeds behind the wooden fencelike gate holding them in. He looked at Alycie.

"We don't have time to slow down!" he said, looking back over his shoulder in time to see a few of the villagers round the corner after them.

"_Jierda du grind_!" she shouted. The gate in front of the stables shattered and Elian whistled shrilly. The horses broke into an immediate run, passing through the remains of the gate and galloping towards their riders. Elian leapt up onto his steed without a pause while Alycie slowed a touch to get on hers. Elian could still see her chest heaving with effort. He remembered the toll magic took on the casters.

"Come on!" he called, whistling at Alycie's steed to follow him. He rode away from the inn and around the corner, Alycie close behind. They turned onto a new street and began to gallop down.

"You run, but you can't escape forever!" came a mad cackle. Eiketo, the jailer, suddenly leapt into the street in front of them, his eyes wide and his mouth split open in a yellow-toothed leer.

"Don't slow down!" shouted Alycie. They rode closer and closer, gathering speed. Suddenly Alycie pulled back on the reins and her steed leapt back on its hind legs, whinnying and flailing its hooves in the air. The jailer ran forward.

Alycie plunged down and her horse's hooves smacked into Eiketo's chest, knocking him to the ground. The horse reared and stomped again on the body. Alycie kicked its sides and the horse began to gallop again. Elian spurred his steed on as well, his hands shaking at what he had just seen Alycie do.

The houses of Petrøvya thinned and Elian as Alycie reached the open land. Both of them slowed to a trot and steered their horses side by side. Elian stared at Alycie.

"We're alive," he said. Alycie smiled.

"Yes. Didn't I tell you we would be?" she said. Elian smiled.

"Where are we going now?" he asked.

"Urû'baen," replied Alycie, turning her steed north.

"But they will know that you were caught and soon they will find that you escaped. We won't be safe in Urû'baen," said Elian.

"We won't be safe anywhere," said Alycie. "But we need to get that last egg. The jailer confirmed my fears that the second egg had been hatched for one of Galbatorix's men. There is one left. We have to steal it."

"Why us though? Why do you need to? Why not a member of the Varden? An officer?" asked Elian. Alycie looked at him.

"If I don't, no one will," she said. "The Varden have their own problems. Their leader has fallen. There is no one else. We have to steal it. For the good of Alagaësia. I have to."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

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	17. The Captain and the Captive

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Here's the Murtagh/Garrick meanwhile you've been wanting!**

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Garrick entered the onyx hallway, straightening his uniform as he walked. His greenish blue eyes were dark and cold, flicking from door to door as he strode along with even paces. He had waited for this day ever since his first mission. He had obeyed and quelled objections for months and now, finally, he was being promoted. A trainee was considered less than nothing. A soldier was considered another body to be sacrificed. But a captain...well, a captain was worth something. A captain worked hard to achieve that title and bore it with honor.

And now it was Garrick's turn. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smug smile. He had worked hard to earn the Commander's favor. He had worked hard, and now it was all paying off. He would be in charge now. He would be in control. He stopped outside of the mahogany doors of the Commander's chamber and raised a gloved hand to knock. He hesitated as the Commander's voice floated out into the hall.

"I thought she died in the Hadarac. Petrøvya? Really? And she escaped?" Garrick felt his body freeze up. He lowered his hand and leaned his head closer to the crack between the double doors. Another voice broke upon his ear.

"Yes, that's what the letter said. Apparently the girl and a Hadarac native took a room for the night in an inn in Petrøvya. They paid the innkeeper with a beetle that looked like a ruby."

"A _beetle_?

"Yes. It must have come from the desert, because I've certainly never seen anything like it before, and I've traveled quite extensively."

"How did they escape?"

"They were up on the gallows when the girl did some magic and broke them free. They got horses and rode out of town, trampling the jailer to death on their way out."

"And neither was injured?"

"Nobody got the chance to get them. It was so fast and then they were running."

"The Emperor will want to know of this..."

Garrick straightened and rapped a few times on the door. The voices halted inside and a few seconds later the mahogany panel swung back to reveal the Commander and a nobleman standing inside. The Commander's serious face split in a hearty grin.

"Garrick, yes, come inside. Lord Baerus, I'm afraid our conversation must come to an end. Come back here this afternoon. I want to continue talking about...the recent events."

"Yes, Commander. Goodbye," said Lord Baerus, nodding as he exited the room. The Commander turned to Garrick, who stood straight and tall, his hands clasped respectively behind his back.

"Garrick, I'm sure you know why I have called you here," he said. Garrick nodded.

"Yes sir," he said.

"You have proven yourself a soldier. You show respect, you obey your commanding officers, and you do not show fear of any sort. Not to mention you have shown leadership in numerous missions and you are probably the only soldier I have ever met that does not fall asleep on guard duty." The Commander allowed himself a grin. The corners of Garrick's mouth turned up in silent recognition of the humor.

"I do what is requested of me, sir," he said. The Commander nodded.

"And with no questions asked," he added. He cleared his throat. "And that is why you are being promoted to the rank of Captain." Garrick allowed a silent sigh to leave his lungs.

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, Captain," said the Commander. "I'm sure I don't have to worry about you abusing your power?"

"You don't have to worry, sir, I know what is expected of me," said Garrick. The Commander nodded, grinning.

"Very well, Captain. We have an assignment for you as well."

"Sir?"

"You are to report to Dras-Leona. You will lead the regiment that is stationed there," said the Commander.

"What is there to be looked out for in Dras-Leona, sir?" asked Garrick.

"The mayor needs watching and the regular transfer of Seithr oil to Helgrind needs regulation. Make sure those slaves are doing what they're supposed to."

"Yes, sir."

"You should leave as soon as possible," said the Commander.

"I will leave now," said Garrick. The Commander smiled.

"Very good, Captain. On your way," he said. Garrick nodded with a final "Yes sir" as he pushed one of the doors aside and strode out into the hallway.

The halls of the palace at Urû'baen were like a maze, but Garrick required no map. He had, on his first day there after delivering the son of Morzan, wandered the onyx hallways until they were engraved in his mind, along with the rooms they held. And it was because of this that Garrick allowed himself to think about other things as he walked at his even pace through the labyrinth of black corridors.

His sister was not dead. That came to him as a surprise. He was sure that the natives of the Hadarac would have slit her throat without a moment's notice. But then, as he had changed, perhaps his sister had too. He didn't know any new survival skills she had picked up.

His love for his sister had turned to an intense worry during his time as a trainee. By the time he became a soldier, he had no tolerance for rebels. He had spent several nights wondering why his sister had paired with the rebel Rider. He wondered how she could have loved the son of Morzan, who was hated throughout the entirety of Alagaësia. Then, as his obedience to his higher officers became necessary, he settled on a conclusion.

His sister had betrayed the Empire. She was now the enemy. And if he ever found her, he would fulfill his duty, and capture her. Or even kill her, if necessary.

The grim picture of a possible future confrontation and the thought of seeing her astonished face filled his mind with wonderful possibilities. The smile broke upon the corners of his mouth again as Garrick stepped out into the red evening sun.

The stables next to the palace were nicer than most. Made of heavy, dark gray stones, it was like a fortress filled with stalls and finished with a loft that lined the perimeter near the ceiling. Garrick strode over to his black and white steed and began to saddle the beast. A low growl accompanied by a scratching cough reached his ears and he looked up into the loft.

The son of Morzan sat there amongst the piles of extra stones, staring off into space as he absently stroked the ruby-scaled lizard that crawled over his knees and stomach. The creature was getting big, though it had only been hatched for less than a week. A rumor had flitted around the palace inhabitants that the Emperor planned to speed his Rider's maturity through an unknown means, but nobody knew for sure.

A spasm of sudden hate flooded Garrick as he watched the Rider. When he tried to locate the source of his hate, he couldn't find one. It was unjustified and raw. And strong.

"Why so solemn, son of Morzan?" Garrick called into the loft. The dark haired man did not look down, but the dragon did. It fixed Garrick with a crimson stare of mixed suspicion and curiosity. Garrick raised an eyebrow and felt his mouth twist in a mocking smirk. "Sad that your lover's been taken by wrinkled old sheiks into the sand sea where nobody will ever find her again?" The little dragon bared its sharp little fangs at him and the son of Morzan stopped stroking its head. He still wasn't looking down at Garrick, but the Captain could tell that his words had struck a nerve. He started to say something else when the Rider turned his head and looked down at him, his eyes the gray of the low hanging storm clouds of winter. Garrick could see some warning lightning in them now.

"What do you want?" he asked in a dead, monotonous voice. Garrick shrugged haughtily, strapping the saddle onto his horse.

"Don't worry," he sneered, ignoring the Rider's question. "Your whore's been a slave before. I'm sure she'll live up quite well to the desert rats' requirements. I think they'll make her dance for them first, the wrinkled old buzzards. Then I think they'll take her into their tents, one after the other. They might even pay her, who knows? Then the next night, they'll do it all again." He paused, watching his words sink in. He had his eyes fixed on the storm clouds in the other man's, watching for the thunder to follow the lightning. "Didn't she go on the raid in the caves to be with you?" he added. There it was. The thunder crashing in the son of Morzan's eyes. Garrick felt a sweet victory leech through his mind. He cocked his head to one side and lifted a hand to his chin in mock thought. "But wouldn't that make it _your_ fault that she's gone?"

The little red dragon let out a hiss and Garrick smirked, climbing into his saddle. As he rode out of the stables, he thought he could hear the sharp crash of a large stone hitting the wall next to the door as he passed through.

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	18. The Memories and the Madness

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Long chapter! I'm expecting about…twenty chapters or more in this story left to go, but I am really generalizing/estimating. Anyway, the story is far from over! Wooo! And then we have a nice long wait until the third one is released. Most likely I'll have to go back and edit both stories. AHH! But I do not think about that yet! **

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Alycie rode in deep thought for the first few days on their way to Furnost. She could tell that Elian was curious about her thoughts, but she did not yet trust him enough to tell him anything. She didn't even know whether she would ever trust him. She was so busy with her own worries that she had no thought to spare for the Falen exile.

The jailer had given her a new frontier to fear. Alycie closed her eyes.

_A small blonde boy lay in bed, tossing in his sleep. He sat up breathing hard, his forehead glistening with sweat. Slowly and carefully, the boy extended a toe out of bed and walked out of his room. _

"Mother?" He slowly pushed the door to his mother's room open. No answer came from the bed. The boy walked closer. "Mother?" The sleeping figure stirred.

_"What is it, Eiketo?" a sweet voice asked. _

_"I had a nightmare," replied the child. _

_The vision blurred and grew into focus once more. The same child, looking several years older, was at the door of his house, pulling on a coat. A woman with the same white-blonde hair stood in the doorway behind him. Creases lined her eyes and aged her face. _

_"Where are you going?" she asked. The boy looked up at her. _

_"I was going to see if the baker needed anything delivered," he said. His mother crossed her arms, her lips thinning._

_"Did you dream that he would?" she asked. The boy paused, not looking at her._

_"Yes," he said. His mother sighed. The boy looked at her, waiting for his rebuke._

_"Go on then. We'll talk about this when you get back," she said. The boy hesitated, and then nodded, turning and walking off into the cluster of buildings._

"What are you thinking about?" came a voice. Alycie opened her eyes. Elian was riding next to her, his eyes focused on her face in curiosity. She shook her head.

"Nothing," she said. Elian did not take his eyes off of her face. She looked away from his gaze, observing the landscape. It was mid afternoon and the town of Furnost was not in sight yet. Grassy hills dotted with trees extended in every direction. Her horse suddenly whinnyed and she looked down to find Elian's hand on her steed's reins. He was pulling both chestnut beasts to a stop. "What are you doing?" demanded Alycie.

"We're going to stop for a spell, alright?" said Elian. It wasn't a question. He dismounted his horse and walked to a nearby stump, sitting down. Alycie slowly dismounted her own, leading it over to a boulder that sat by the stump.

"Are you tired already?" she asked Elian. He shook his head, his clear blue stare focused closely on her.

"I believe we need to talk," he said. Alycie sat down on the boulder facing Elian, wary.

"About what?" she asked. Elian took a deep breath.

"I don't believe we should keep secrets from each other," he said. Alycie's expression did not change.

"What secrets am I keeping from you?" she asked. Elian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"You never explain your motives for anything, you leave gaping holes in the stories of your past, you sleep restlessly nearly every night, you grow distant and silent for days on end when we travel, you randomly shout out to nobody, and you never speak about the other man you traveled with when you were with the Rider." Alycie blinked.

"Am I not entitled to keep my own secrets?" she asked.

"If we are going to be companions, then I would like to know exactly who I am traveling with," he said.

"You don't have to travel with me," said Alycie, her voice suddenly cold. "I could just leave you in any town we stop in. You can't go anywhere without me so don't you go around ordering me to reveal my secrets." Elian stood up.

"I risked my life and the lives of my family to rescue you from those Twins! I brought you to our tribe and assured everyone that you were dependable! You would have been tortured and even maybe killed if we had left you with the Urgals!" he shouted.

"Maybe you should have left me with them! At least then I wouldn't have been separated from Murtagh! At least then I would know where he was! At least then I would be closer to him and not hundreds of miles away with a stupid desert rat who doesn't even know how to _pay_ someone with decent currency!" Alycie screamed back at him. Elian froze, his eyes like chips of ice. Alycie glared at him.

Then her glare turned to anguish and she bent over, crossing her arms over her middle, and began to cry. Elian stared at her. Sobs racked her shoulders and she lowered her head to her knees, her short hair falling about her face. Elian walked to her and got to his knees on the ground, placing a hand on her back. A fresh wave of sobs came upon her and he pulled her off the boulder into a comforting embrace. She put her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder, letting out a cry of sadness. He held her for several minutes as she cried.

"I think it's time for you to tell me the whole story," Elian said quietly as Alycie's sobs turned to hiccups. She pulled back from him and leaned her back against the boulder, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. She sniffled once and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Elian watched her face with a calm, kind expression. Her nose and eyes had grown red from crying and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. She looked rather pretty, Elian thought.

"I told you that when I began traveling with Eragon, Murtagh was the other man that was with us," said Alycie. Elian nodded. "You remember when I told you that Eragon was kidnapped in an ambush and taken to the prison in Gil'ead?" Elian nodded again. Alycie took a breath. "Well...while he was there, I...I kissed Murtagh." A warm feeling engulfed her heart as the memory arose in her mind. "We didn't speak about it again until we had rescued Eragon. When we planned to cross the Hadarac, Eragon went to experiment, and Murtagh...kissed me, that time. He was worried, though, that he was putting me in danger by kissing me."

"Why would he be putting you in danger?" asked Elian. Alycie paused.

"You have heard of the Forsworn, haven't you? Galbatorix's Riders?"

"Yes."

"So you know of Morzan?"

"Yes. He was the first."

"And the last," said Alycie. She took a breath. "Murtagh is his son." Elian's eyes widened and he stood up.

"What!?" he exclaimed. Alycie watched him.

"He is not like his father! He hates him! He has a scar that crosses his back where his father threw a sword at him as a child!" she protested.

"And you are in love with him?" asked Elian in disbelief.

"Yes," said Alycie. Elian ran a hand through his hair.

"How can you love a man like that?" he asked. Alycie frowned.

"He didn't tell us that he was Morzan's son until a few days before we reached the Varden," she said. "He was so ashamed of it that he said he wouldn't blame me if I hated him then. But I didn't."

"I knew there was something missing from all of your stories," said Elian. Alycie nodded.

"When we reached the Varden, Murtagh would not let the Twins enter his mind. They locked him up for the duration of our stay and would not let him leave until he did so. He would have been in there forever, I expect, if we had not been in a battle." A tear spilled from Alycie's eye. "We had planned to leave Eragon before reaching the Varden. We planned to get away and travel to Surda together."

"You did love him," said Elian, his thoughts puzzled. He did not understand love. But what he had seen in Saleo, he now saw in Alycie as she cried over the son of the Forsworn.

"Yes, I did," she said. "And I didn't get to see him for most of the time with the Varden. I had to be accompanied everywhere by Ferros."

"Who's Ferros?" asked Elian.

"He was assigned to be my escort. To make sure I didn't do anything against the Varden's will," said Alycie. A memory fluttered to the surface. "He was from Furnost, I believe."

"Maybe we'll find his family as well," said Elian. "I plan to inquire about my father when we get there." They sat in silence for a spell. Then Elian looked up at Alycie. "When was the last time you saw Murtagh?"

"...The night you attacked," said Alycie. "The Twins told us..." Her eyes widened. "That's right...they told us that Eragon and Murtagh were brothers..."

"What!?" exclaimed Elian in shock.

"Eragon never knew his father, but his mother's name was Selena. Murtagh's mother's name was Selena," said Alycie.

"Are you sure?"

"The Twins said it."

"Then how can you be sure?" asked Elian. Alycie shook her head.

"They weren't lying about this, I am positive."

"Well...if you're sure..." said Elian. Alycie drifted into thought. Another question came to Elian's lips. "What happened between you and the jailer?"

"The jailer?" asked Alycie.

"Yes, and why do you grow so distant all of the time?" asked Elian. Alycie looked at him.

"I told you that I see visions, didn't I?" she asked. Elian nodded in confirmation. "Well...I have them all of the time. Not normal visions. I hear a voice in my head and I find it to be a man clear across the land. I have never met him, but I saw him on a wanted poster in Petrøvya. I can see where he is and he in turn can see where I am. But my visions...my visions have increased since I hit my head at the battle of Farthen Dûr and when the Twins betrayed us. Bahri knew. Bahri told me to worry about my mind. I have such frequent visions that it is sometimes hard to tell them from what has already happened. I...the jailer told me he had the same sort of visions. He mentioned Murtagh being the new Rider under Galbatorix's control. I tried to read his mind...and...I saw his memories..."

"You can read minds?" asked Elian, his brow furrowing.

"Don't worry, I cannot read yours," said Alycie. "But the jailer...he caused me to pass out. And then I dreamed his past..."

_A tall, young man with white blonde hair tied back at the nape of his neck strode along the cobblestone streets of Petrøvya. He wore simple clothing against his thin form and his face was pale from a recent sickness. He turned a corner and strode into a shop, heading for the shelves in the back where rope coils were stocked. He did not even have to search for the one he wanted. There it was, in the middle of the rack. _

_Just as he knew it would be._

_Eiketo took the rope and moved to the storekeeper to pay. He stood behind Varris, the innkeeper, as the man fiddled with his coins to pay for two new tankards all the way from Surda. _

_"I hope the weather takes a turn soon," he was telling the storekeeper. "This lack of rain isn't doing anything to help Barror with his orchard. I need those apples for my customers." The storekeeper nodded, and grinned._

_"Why don't you let Eiketo tell you if the weather will turn around? He seems to have a gift for guessing," he said. Varris looked around. _

_"Oh really? Well then, Eiketo, what'll it be? Rain or shine?" he asked. Eiketo smirked._

_"It will rain in two days," he said. Varris held out a hand._

_"You've got yourself a bet, young man," he said. Eiketo took it with a confident smile. Varris bustled out of the shop and he stepped forward, his payment already in hand._

_"I suppose you'll be getting this money back in two days time then," said the shopkeeper, handing a few coins back to the blonde man. _

_"And more," said Eiketo, looping the rope coil over his shoulder. He turned to leave. _

_"Watch out for the bakery," warned the shopkeeper. "They're levering wood onto the roof."_

_"Good bye," called Eiketo, striding out of the door. In truth Eiketo did not know whether he would get the money or not. In his dreams and daydreams of the past few days, he had only seen the rope being where it was and the cost. He considered this strange, but at the same time not strange. He never saw his own future._

_He turned the corner onto the main street and his pale eyes flicked up to the construction on the bakery. Long ropes were swung over the edge of the building and a line of men was on the roof pulling at it. A beam was fastened at the other end, a long, metal nail protruding from one end, ready to be plunged into another beam to secure them together. _

_"Oi! Hold it, Dolphus, your hands are slipping!" one of the men in the line shouted to a comrade. Eiketo stopped suddenly as his mind flooded with a light. He could still see the scene in front of him, but another was playing behind his eyes. _

_He saw a brunette man and a blue dragon in a sea of sand. Beside him walked a sandy-haired girl dressed in men's clothing and a dark-haired man. The dark man and the girl lay on the ground and curled up together while the brunette man tended to a pale, sleeping elf who was draped over the dragon's back._

_Suddenly things began moving in the real world. As if in slow motion, a rope holding the beam snapped. The line of men jerked forward and the beam swung in a low arc. Eiketo emerged from his vision just as the nail tore through the side of his mouth. The beam met his head and he flew backwards, his mind and eyes going black._

Elian did not say anything.

"After the blow to his head, it seems he was never the same," she explained. "The visions took him over until he went mad with them. Reality was no longer separate."

"And you are afraid it will happen to you," said Elian. Alycie hesitated.

"Yes," she said. "An Urgal struck my head with a hammer and I fell to the ground and hit it on the stone floor. The injury has come and the visions have increased. It is only a matter of time before I too go mad."

"You won't go mad," said Elian.

"How do you know? Do you know any other seers?" asked Alycie. Elian hesitated.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," he said. "Bahri and Jarae." Alycie's jaw dropped.

"Jarae was a seer?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, he was," said Elian. "He could always foretell a sandstorm without even going out of his tent, and he knew when a fight was about to break out. He could see in everything but his own blood." He grew quiet.

"Bahri wasn't a seer," said Alycie. "He is an elf."

"Bahri is an elf?" asked Elian.

"Half-elf, yes," said Alycie. Elian shook his head.

"I had no idea. All this time...but it would explain why he didn't age..."

"Yes, I believe not aging is a characteristic that most humans don't have," said Alycie mockingly. Elian rolled his eyes.

"At least I'm not going mad," he said. Alycie frowned.

"It's nothing to joke about," she said. Elian stood up, brushing the dust off of his pants.

"As long as you keep saying that you are going mad, I will mock you," he said. "You seem sensible enough and you have already been hit in the head. I don't think that you will end up like the jailer." He extended a hand to help her up. She glared.

"How do you know I will not go mad?" she asked.

"I don't. But I do know that _I_ will go mad if you mope about it. So my recommendation to you about what to do about it is that you ignore your vision of the jailer and try to ground yourself in the present. Let the future work itself out on its own." Alycie took his hand and stood, her eyes on him.

"Ignore my visions too?" she asked. Elian nodded.

"They seem to be causing nothing but trouble. The jailer, according to you, listened to his visions and used them to his advantage. I suggest that you ignore yours. That way you won't think about them so often that they meld into your memories." He turned and walked to Alycie's horse, leading it back to her and walking to retrieve his own. Alycie looked thoughtful as she mounted her steed. And, as Elian slipped onto his horse's back, she rode up alongside him and leaned over, pecking him on the cheek.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. Then she dug her heels into the chestnut's sides and broke into a gallop. Elian paused, his hand on his cheek. Then he spurred his steed on and galloped in her wake.

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	19. The Games and the Naming

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**I know I said I wouldn't update this until the third book came out, but I wanted to get this filler over with. It is an entirely pointless chapter created to get them from point A to point B. Enjoy ******

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"I do spy, with my eye, a thing that is green."

"No, you don't," retorted Elian. Alycie gave him a look.

"Guess," she said.

"No, I don't want to guess anymore," said Elian. "These outsider games of yours are so tedious..."

"Oh yeah? What Falen games do _you_ play? _'Let's see who can find the biggest clump of sand'_?"

"Ha ha. Good one," said Elian in a sarcastic monotone. Alycie grinned at him.

"I do spy..."

"No," said Elian.

"...with my eye..."

"Nooo," he groaned.

"...a thing that is..._green_," Alycie finished. Elian sighed.

"The grass," he said. Alycie clapped her hands together.

"Good! Now your turn," she said cheerily. Elian gave her a wide-eyed grimace. "Do it!"

"Fine...let me find something..." He looked around, then back at her. "I spy something red," he said in a rush.

"No!" objected Alycie. "You have to say the whole thing! Nobody just says 'I spy'!"

"I _do_ spy, with _my_ eye, _something_ that is _red_!" annunciated Elian through clenched teeth. Alycie looked around. She looked back down at their clothing, then at the horses.

"There's nothing red," she said in puzzlement. "What do you see?"

"It's time to take off that nasty bandage around your head," said Elian. Alycie reached up. The bandage Bahri had wrapped her skull with was still on. She had forgotten to remove it. She reached around and released an end, unraveling the bloodstained strip of cloth. A line of black along the inside caught her eye and she peered closer. Something was written there. She thought back to her reading practice. Slowly, she sounded out the words.

_'Don't go home.'_

"What are you doing?" asked Elian, watching her mouth silently sound out the words. Alycie looked up, folding the bandage in her hands.

"Nothing," she said. Her tone caught Elian's attention. He crossed his arms.

"Ah ah, I thought we were being open to each other now," he said.

"There's a note on my bandage that says _'Don't go home'_," said Alycie. "Does that mean anything to you?" Elian shook his head, frowning.

"Not a thing," he said. Alycie tucked the bandage away in a pocket of the saddlebags. Elian saw her brow furrow in thought. "Don't worry about it," he said, though it sounded more like a warning than advice. Alycie slowly nodded and her face smoothed. She looked at him.

"I do spy--"

"Don't!" ordered Elian, covering his ears. "I will not guess anymore! No!" Alycie laughed.

Elian felt a thrill run through him at the sound. The past four days of their ride to Furnost had been void of sadness and worry. Alycie had seemed a great deal more cheerful after his advice and he found that he had sprung quite a liking for her. He felt happier that she was now happy. And on top of that, they seemed to be nearing Furnost.

His mind had been busy at night; visualizing what the town his father resided in might look like. He wondered about the woman his father had loved. He wondered about his half brother. He wondered if his brother would like him or if he would be disgusted at his relation to a desert rat. Elian wondered if the boy even looked like him. His excitement built day after day, along with his apprehension.

But his family was not the only thing he thought about. He often sank into silences where his mind filled with thoughts of Alycie and her past. He wondered about the Rider and the Varden. He wondered about the Forsworn son. He was puzzled at how something good might have sprung from the loins of one so evil as Morzan. But Alycie was devoted. Then, as these thoughts drifted through his mind, Elian would feel a sinking feeling edged with a darkness he could not explain. Alycie sometimes noticed his moods and drew him out with distractions. He wondered if she knew what he was thinking behind those smoky-blue eyes...

Alycie rode along next to him, looking down at her steed.

"Why doesn't he have a name?" she asked. Elian blinked, looking up.

"What?"

"Why don't our horses have names?" she asked. Elian looked down at his own steed and shrugged.

"We just never named the desert horses," he said.

"You didn't name _any_?" exclaimed Alycie. Elian shook his head. "Well that's not good!"

"Why isn't it good?"

"Everything has to have a name," said Alycie.

"Why?"

"Well...to...treat it as an individual. To give it some importance," said Alycie. Elian raised an eyebrow at her.

"I don't think the horses care about being important or individual," he said. Alycie waved a hand.

"Nonsense," she said. "They need names."

"Alright then, what do you want to name them?" asked Elian. Alycie thought.

"Mine will be...Umber. And yours can be Fiddlewisk." Elian looked at her in shock.

"_Fiddlewisk_!?" he exclaimed incredulously. Alycie nodded, patting his steed's neck.

"Yes. What's wrong with the name Fiddlewisk?" she asked. Elian stared at her.

"It's ridiculous," he said. Alycie frowned and straightened her posture, lifting her head pompously.

"I don't think it's ridiculous."

"We are not naming it Fiddlewisk."

"Him. And the name is final. He is Fiddlewisk from now on."

Elian snorted and shook his head. It would do no good to argue.

It was past noon when Furnost grew into sight. The two lifted their hoods over their faces as they entered. Elian lent Alycie some kohl, which she smeared her eyes with. They did not doubt that the news of their escape from Petrøvya would have spread throughout the southern region of Alagaësia. Red and black-clad soldiers were on every corner, spears and swords in hand. There was a security checkpoint at the entrance to the city.

"What do we do?" asked Elian. Alycie thought.

"You are a slave trader," she said. Elian looked around at her.

"What?"

"You have captured me as a slave," said Alycie. Elian's expression remained confused. "Just treat me like dirt. I am your servant. You are going to sell me for money. Say your name is Falda, and that I am not worthy of a name because I am a slave."

"They will believe this?" asked Elian, his voice shocked. Alycie nodded. "It is common to enslave people?"

"Yes," said Alycie. Elian looked horrified. Alycie felt a pang, but told him to recover himself as they neared the entrance.

"Halt!" commanded a guard. They complied. "State your name and purpose in Furnost."

"Er...I am called Falda, and I have come with my slave," said Elian. Alycie closed her eyes in exasperation. The guard narrowed his eyes.

"And your purpose here?" he demanded. Elian hesitated. Alycie squinted at the guard, then spurred her steed forward, passing Elian. She leaned down and hissed.

"_Onr kalfyis gánga fram_!" The guard blinked at her, but then his legs began to move, carrying him forward. He wobbled unsteadily as his legs moved with a life of their own. He began to yell and Alcyie rode after him, withdrawing a wad of cloth from her pocket and stuffing it into his mouth, yelling a few words that constricted his arms to his sides. The muffled soldier continued his forced walk into the wilderness as Alycie and Elian quickly slipped inside the city.

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	20. The Intrusion and the Intuition

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**I AM. SOOO. SORRY! I've been busy, writer's block, didn't know what to do, other things came up. I can offer no excuse worthy enough for my long silence. The thing is, it's here now, and that's all that matters. In the words of the orcs and urok hai of the Two Towers movie, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"**

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"Alycie," whispered Elian from beneath his hood, "we've been searching for hours. There's no inn that isn't filled to the brim with soldiers and there's no business that lies unguarded. We'll have to just sit in someone's doorway and sleep in shifts. I'll go first if you like. We can't keep walking like this. The horses have to ride who knows how many miles tomorrow and they are severely in need of rest--"

"I know, Elian. I know," murmured Alycie, her eyes darting around, hesitating on each guard they neared until they had gotten safely past. "I'm tired too..."

It was nearing dusk. The people in the streets had thinned out and now there only remained the night guard along with the few stragglers heading to the nearest pub. Alycie lightly tugged at Elian's shirt and nodded at an upcoming alley that split the wall of buildings to their right. They reached it and began to turn when two guards garbed in red and black emerged from it, swords swinging from their belts. The two fugitives quickly turned their feet and resumed their straight route along the road, trying to look nonchalant.

"Even the alleys are guarded," muttered Elian. "At this rate, there is no way we'll find a place to stay."

"Hold it," said Alycie, grasping Elian's wrist and squeezing it. He stopped and followed her gaze. There was a building across the street not too different from any other building they had passed thus far. A sign hanging out above the window read 'Apothecary' in carved, green letters. Alycie glanced at Elian from beneath her hood. "If we can't find public quarters, perhaps we need to take matters into our own hands."

"Do they have stables?" asked Elian.

"I think I see a small hold out behind," said Alycie, glancing down the alley that cut to the next street over behind the building. . Her eyes spotted a wooden post alongside the shop. "Tie them there until we can certify that we have lodgings."

They crossed to the apothecary, shifting their gazes in a quick sweep of the street, seeking out guards. There were none. Elian quickly tied the newly-christened horses' reins around the post and the two of them quietly entered the shop.

The apothecary was poorly stocked, to say the least. A few flasks stood on shelves behind a counter and barrels filled with various herbs and roots lined the walls. A dark wooden staircase stood against the rightmost wall, leading up to the second floor. A door in the back clearly led to the stables Alycie had spotted.

"Nobody's here," said Elian. Alycie nodded, silently reaching down to her boots. "How are we to certify lodgings then?"

"With a little persuasion," said Alycie, withdrawing her knife. Elian stared at it, then back at her face.

"You can't mean to kill them?" he said, uncertain. Alycie shrugged.

"If they try to call the soldiers. Otherwise we'll just threaten them. Threats go a long way, you know."

"Yes, but there are other ways," said Elian. Alycie raised an eyebrow.

"If there are, they're not as foolproof as threats are in these kinds of situations," she said. Elian shook his head and looked back at the staircase.

"Fine, go on then. Go up there and do your worst to the poor shopkeepers," he said. Alycie glared, but crept over to the staircase and began her ascent, the dagger grasped firmly in her hand.

The top stair creaked loudly as she put her weight on it. Alycie jumped up onto the top floor at the noise and it ceased. She took a deep breath and turned, making her way down the hall towards the nearest door. Slowly, she grasped the knob and turned it, pushing the door inside.

There were two beds in the dark room, across the room from one another. Alycie crept towards the nearest one and slowly craned her neck to see the occupant's face. It held a boy, a little over thirteen years of age by the looks of him. She skittered across the room and examined the other occupant. It was a twin. She lifted her knife, only to lower it again, sighing. They would have to find a different shelter. She turned to leave...

...only to find herself facing the point of a sword. Her eyes traveled up the blade, connecting with two, wide hazel eyes filled with warning. Female eyes. A mother's eyes. She jerked her head silently, but meaningfully, towards the door and Alycie edged towards it, backing into the hallway. The woman followed, drawing the door shut behind her before she spoke.

"You've got three seconds to explain why you're in my house before I run you through," she said. Alycie immediately noted the strange pronunciation of vowels that the woman had when she spoke. It was familiar somehow...

"Me and my partner, we're two traveling strangers. We were just looking for lodgings for the night and we came across the stables and just thought we could bunk inside this apothecary for the night and leave at dawn. My companion's downstairs. I was just looking for the owner to ask permission, and that must be you." Gray-blue eyes pleaded with the hazel, but the latter narrowed, accompanied by a slight twitch of the lips in a smirk.

"I see you're used to lying everywhere you go," said the woman. "But I bet you've never lied to a mother before. I can always tell. Now why don't you say why you're really here? Planning to kill my boys in their sleep before you rob the place? Well you won't find anything. The money's dried up with the war rampaging like this."

Alycie considered the woman. Her long, blonde hair flipped out in half-curls around her ears and shoulders and her shoulders were tense as she held the sword. Alycie felt an unexplainable sense of trust fall over her.

"We're here about the war, actually," she said. "Passing through, that wasn't a lie, but it's because of the war. We're headed to Urû'baen." To help or to hinder the Empire, she didn't specify. The woman's eyes widened even more.

"I've seen you before. You're on those posters hung up around town!" she exclaimed. "Are you with the Varden?"

"We have...seen them before, yes," said Alycie, still a bit hesitant. The woman lowered the sword at once, all signs of a threat gone.

"Did you hear anyone called Ferros when you saw them?" It clicked.

"You're his mother, aren't you?" asked Alycie. The woman looked delighted.

"You _have_ seen him then! Is he alright? How are the Varden doing? Are they making any headway against Galbatorix?"

"He's fine, they're all fine," said Alycie. She didn't fell particularly inclined to give out the details of the attack at Farthen Dûr quite yet.

"Are you headed to stop the Empire, then?"

"We're headed to do what we can," said Alycie. "But I'm afraid our journey has nothing to do with the Varden. We aren't on their orders."

"Still, you're doing _something_. I keep telling myself I need to help somehow, but I can't just leave Rane and Kale on their own..."

"Could we continue this downstairs?" asked Alycie in a hushed voice. "My companion will want to discuss things as well."

"Ah, right. Come along then," said the woman, picking the sword back up and leading the way down the stairs. "I'm Magelyne, by the way."

"Alycie," said Alycie. "I see the soldiers have taken over pretty securely here." Magelyne snorted.

"Securely? They stand at their posts all day asleep on their feet. They've stopped even checking the goods wagons that enter and leave the city. Lazy as they are..." They stepped off of the staircase onto the ground floor and looked around. Elian was nowhere to be seen.

"Elian?" said Alycie, peering around the corner. A gasp behind her made her spin around in time to see a dark arm grab Magelyne by the throat, pinning her to the wall as a knife found its way to her face. But she didn't go down defenseless. In less than a second, the sword had moved from its blade-down position to being up at the ready, pressed against the assailant's neck. Alycie quickly grabbed at the attacker's shoulder. "Elian! It's fine! She's on our side!" she said. The knife fell away from the woman's face and the long sword sank back to the floor as Magelyne lifted herself from the wall, staring at Elian.

"I thought you were certifying lodgings," said Elian, looking at Alycie.

"Turns out it's easier than I thought," said Alycie. "This is Ferros's mother. She's a friend to us."

"My apologies, Miss," said Elian, nodding at Magelyne. "I'm Elian."

"Magelyne," said Ferros's mother. She seemed a bit dazed, looking at Elian, but she snapped out of it and turned her eyes back to Alycie. "How can I help you then?"

"We need a way to get out of the city," said Alycie. "As well as food and provisions. We've run low and we still have a long, difficult ride across the plains ahead of us. After our escape from Petrøvya, which you've no doubt heard about as well as the rest of this town, we'll have to remain even more inconspicuous."

"We could probably get you out of the city around dawn, when most of the guards are asleep at their posts," said Magelyne. "That's when the security is most lax. I've been watching them, waiting for the day when it would come in handy. You say you have horses though...it's hard to sneak out of a heavily guarded city with two horses..."

"You say they don't check wagons anymore," said Elian. "You could drive us out in a covered wagon using our horses to pull the cart. Granted, you wouldn't be able to keep the cart once the job is finished."

"I can't leave the apothecary," said Magelyne, shaking her head. "It's too suspicious. I never leave the shop for more than a few hours and I never venture out of Furnost. I guess you could say I'm scared of the outside world."

"Your sons could drive us," said Alycie. "The twins upstairs. They're of the age that they can help around your shop, if they don't already."

"They're not my sons. But they could drive you..." considered Magelyne. Seeing Alycie's puzzled look, she smiled. "They're my nephews. My sister died of an illness right before her husband was taken to be a soldier. I raise them, but Ferros is my only blood son."

"Where is your husband?" asked Alycie.

"I was never married," said Magelyne. "Ferros's father wasn't my husband." Her eyes drifted from Alycie to Elian as she spoke. Alycie decided it was best not to press the subject too long.

"We should ready the wagon now, just so it's ready in the morning when we leave," said Alycie. Magelyne nodded, turning towards the staircase once more. "I'll wake Rane and Kale and tell them their mission. Then, you two can sleep up in my room until morning. It's too unsafe to sleep down there in the open."

Alycie and Elian made their way through the shabby door in the back of the apothecary, stepping into the stables where the horses slept, nearly dead on their feet from exhaustion. An old horse drawn wagon sat in the back corner. It wasn't big, only a one-horse wagon. Alycie found an extra strip of reins, and they fastened it to the harness already attatched to the wagon, making it suitable for both Umbar and Fiddlewisk.

"Is she really Ferros's mother?" asked Elian after a while.

"She looks like him," said Alycie. "Are you having doubts?"

"It's strange. She gives me an odd feeling. I don't know whether to trust her or not," said Elian. "It would be foolish to go around blindly trusting every mother we met."

"I trust Ferros, and I trust her," said Alycie. "What she's been saying isn't a lie. I'm positive. She will help us get out of here."

"Still..." said Elian hesitantly. Alycie put a hand on his shoulder, turning him towards her.

"Don't worry," she said. Elian held her gaze for a long time before turning with her and heading back into the apothecary.

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	21. The Past and the Plight

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Here's another chapter! I'm on a roll tonight!**

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The next morning was filled with a thin silence accompanied by a white fog that hung right above the streets of Furnost. Alycie and Elian were awakened by Magelyne, feeling as though they had not slept at all. They woke up soon enough once they reached the ground floor, however. Two packs had been filled with loaves of bread, strips of dried meat, and several flasks of water as well as a few poultices for minor cuts. Alycie could not thank Ferros's mother enough. The twins, Rane and Kale, were already in the stable, hitching the wagon up to both horses using the crude rein extensions Alycie had added on the previous night. She picked up the two packs and headed through the back door into the stable to stow them away in the wagon, grabbing a blanket as she went to cover the wagon, and her and Elian, with.

Magelyne and Elian were left alone in the apothecary.

"Thank you for this," said Elian, feeling the pressure to speak. "You're endangering your own life and the lives of your nephews for the sake of ours. We're grateful."

"It's no problem. Anything we can do to help the cause that Ferros left home for is worth it," said Magelyne in reply. Elian spoke the question that had burned at the back of his mind since the previous night.

"Was he here long?" asked Elian. Magelyne looked puzzled. "Ferros's...father?"

"No, not long at all. At least it didn't feel long at all," said Magelyne. "He came in around springtime and started offering to fix different things around the apothecary. He was sweet, but exotic. He left the week before I found I was pregnant with Ferros." She looked at Elian. "He was from the Hadarac, like you. The first time he walked in here, he tried to pay me in beetles. I heard the same happened in Petrøvya, did it not?" Elian smiled fleetingly.

"It is our currency, in the desert," he said. "Did he say what tribe he was from?"

"The Falen," said Magelyne. She didn't seem surprised to see Elian's wide-eyed look of realization or his gasp. "You are Falen too, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Elian, looking at her. "Was his name--"

"Cadis?" finished Ferros's mother. Elian nodded. She smiled. "You look like him. You know, right before he left he told me he felt guilty for leaving what he'd left in the Hadarac. I guessed that he had a family. You really do look so much like him..." She held a hand up to Elian's face and caressed it gently. He saw her forehead crease in worry as she gulped and asked another question. "How...how is he?" Elian lifted his hands to her hand that caressed his face and he lowered it, looking solemn. Magelyne nodded in understanding, looking at the floor. "I see. I don't need to know why. He was back where he belonged." She turned and walked behind a counter. "Looks like my Ferros has a half brother," she said, smiling at Elian. He could see her eyes shimmer slightly, as if cased in liquid.

The back door opened and Alycie strode in, her voice a whisper.

"It's all ready. The streets are completely empty, too. You were right, Magelyne, this timing is perfect. Come on, Elian." She walked to Ferros's mother and gave her a tight hug. "Thank you so much for your help."

"It was nothing," said Magelyne, smiling at Alycie. "Anything to help the allies of the Varden. Now don't get caught once you get out or I'll give you worse than those soldier torture artists ever will." Alycie smirked and walked back to the stable door. Elian crossed to Magelyne and hugged her as well, muttering another thank you. As he pulled away, however, he planted a short but meaningful kiss on her cheek, his eyes catching hers for half a second before he turned on his heel and followed Alycie through the door. Magelyne smiled, looking after them. "Be victorious, son..." she whispered to herself.

Rane and Kale, though sleepy, were doing a wonderful job of acting as if this were a normal, out-of-city delivery. Though it probably was _because_ of their tired state. Elian and Alycie lay curled on their sides underneath several sheets and blankets covering the wagon. The two packs stood between them to hold the fabrics up so that two human shapes wouldn't be visible beneath them.

The wagon was stopped at the gate to the city by a burly soldier who had obviously been assigned to take the place of the one that Alycie had sent marching into the plains. He scrutinized the wagon for a long time before he began to fire off questions to the two half-conscious wagon drivers.

"Where are you headed?" he demanded.

"Melian," replied Kale.

"And what're you bringing?"

"Black beetles' eyes," said Rane, rubbing his eyes.

"Why all the blankets? Afraid the beetles will get cold?" asked the soldier jokingly.

"No, you twit, the beetles' eyes lose their luster and effectiveness if they're left out in the sun for too long," snapped Kale. Apparently, Kale was not a morning person.

"Don't be rude, boy, you'll end up in nasty places," said the soldier.

"Don't be so cheery in the morning then," growled Kale. Rane quickly intervened.

"Can we go, sir? My brother isn't one of the best people this early, but Auntie wanted us to get an early start," he said. The soldier waved them on with a look of utter annoyance and Elian and Alycie could breathe easily again.

They didn't remove the blankets until they were a good five miles away from Furnost. It was another five before Elian and Alycie hopped off. As they unloaded the two packs from the back of the wagon, Alycie noticed another two stuffed away in the corners.

"What are those for?" she asked. Rane glanced back.

"Oh, well Auntie figured that since we've said we're going to Melian, we should actually go to Melian. It's a good four days drive and she didn't want us running out of food or fighting." He looked ahead at Fiddlewisk and Umbar. "'S going to be awful hard to get to Melian in four days without a horse, though." Alycie saw his point. They'd forgotten to bring a method of transport along for the twins, in order to get them back. Alycie looked at Umbar, then at Fiddlewisk. She unhitched Umber at the front and handed his reins to Elian, looking up at the twins.

"Keep Fiddlewisk," she said. The twins looked surprised.

"Don't you need him to run with?" asked Kale.

"We can make it to Urû'baen with one horse. We'll pick up another when we get there. It's not so far of a ride." The twins both thanked her and recovered the wagon with the blanket. As Alycie lifted herself up onto Umbar behind Elian, however, the twins called to her.

"Is it true we have the Rider?" asked Rane. Alycie smiled.

"Yes we do," she said. The twins looked equally awed.

"Have you seen him?" asked Kale, his mouth hanging open.

"Yes I have," said Alycie.

"Is...Is he everything they say he is?" asked Rane. Both twins looked very eager for her answer. Alycie smiled.

"And more," she said. She raised her hand in a wave of farewell as Elian dug his heels into Umbar's sides, setting the horse off at a run as the twins watched them with wonder written on both of their faces.

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	22. The Dispute and the Decision

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Yayuh, another update! How do you like me NOW!**

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It took them nearly a week to reach Urû'baen with only one horse to carry the two of them. They switched off riding Umbar, then both walked along while the horse rested from carrying them for so long. On the morning of the sixth day, the city grew into sight. Elian and Alycie pulled Umbar aside to a small stream in a grove of trees high on a hill and they set up a camp and fire, looking down at the city.

"It seems impossible to sneak around in there. It's too big; too heavily populated," said Elian. Alycie stoked the embers with a stick and looked down as well, her chin resting in her hand.

"We'll have to find a way in," she said. "We need that egg."

"Have you been here before?" asked Elian. Alycie thought back to when she had first joined Eragon and Murtagh.

"Once. But never inside. We managed to sneak by the checkpoints along the outer perimeter of the city," she said. "Besides, at that time we were unknown. You and I are wanted throughout Alagaësia. There's no way we can sneak in while being seen. We'll have to go tonight, under the cloak of darkness." Elian stripped the pelt from the rabbit he was skinning and set to work on gutting it, his kohl-lined eyes glancing from time to time down at the city.

"That is a high outer wall we'll have to breach," he said thoughtfully. "Then we somehow maneuver through the countless streets until we get to the castle at the center, where we'll have to find some way of either entering or scaling the castle to get inside. Once we're in, then we'll have to navigate our way through a maze of hallways to find the one room, which is hidden and heavily guarded I might add, and then follow that up by somehow making our way back out again afterwards. How do you suppose we are to do that? It's impossible." Alycie was looking highly annoyed.

"So we came all this way for nothing? We infiltrated two towns and traveled for weeks to take one look at our destination and throw up our hands in defeat? Meanwhile Galbatorix plots away in his tower, getting closer and closer to hatching the last egg so he'll have two Riders in his forces. Eragon can't defeat _two_! If a few agents of the Varden can steal an egg, than we can steal the other."

"If the Varden took the other one, then shouldn't the Varden steal the other?" asked Elian, his frustration rising. "We aren't the Varden, Alycie. We don't have the knowledge or the experience that they have."

"If we think together, we can come up with a plan the Varden would be proud of," said Alycie. "When Eragon was taken at Gil'ead, Murtagh and I planned for a day and managed to come up with a plan that managed to save Eragon along with an unconscious elf."

"Yes, but I am not exactly the son of a Forsworn, now am I?" said Elian ruefully. "Nor do we have a dragon on our side. If we _did_, I wouldn't be so opposed to this plan."

"We have to try at least, Elian!" exclaimed Alycie. Elian shook his head, cleaning the rabbit and mumbling under his breath. Alycie's brow furrowed and her eyes grew very cold. "What was that?" she asked in an icy voice. Elian looked up at her, his expression irritable.

"I said that the only reason you care about the egg so much is because you think you can save Murtagh too," he said. "You're risking both of our lives and, if Galbatorix can read minds, the lives of everyone we know! Just running into Urû'baen without any sort of assistance or backup plan is stupid, Alycie, it's completely reckless--" Alycie's hand suddenly shot out and she slapped Elian hard across the face, her palm making contact with a resounding crack. Elian's head spun sideways from the force of the blow, but he did not turn it back immediately. Alycie stood up quickly and walked away from the campsite, winding through the trees in order to get as far away from Elian and the fire as she could.

She emerged onto a slope riddled with boulders, it too overlooking Urû'baen. She climbed onto a boulder and crossed her legs, leaning her elbows on them and staring down at the city. Why had she just slapped Elian? He was right, and she knew it. They had no logical plan for reaching the egg. They didn't even know for sure which building was Galbatorix's castle. Was it because of what he had said? But it was true. She did want to save Murtagh. The egg was just an excuse. Reckless, he'd called her...

Alycie clutched her arms as a sudden, chilly wind blew past. She watched the branches of the trees sway in a wave as the gust approached the town. Men walking in the streets clutched at their hats to keep them from blowing away and girls batted at their skirts to keep them in place. Signs outside of buildings rocked back and forth on their hinges, and a few clumps of straw pulled free of the thatched roofs of the houses near the perimeter. Nearer to the inner city, a wooden plank on a unfinished roof moved a foot or two from the force of the gust. Whoever owned that house would have to climb back up to their roof and fix it...

She blinked as the heavenly light of comprehension dawned in on her thoughts. She stared at the city, her eyes suddenly darting around like mad, taking in every detail of the landscape. Her frown stretched into a victorious grin and she laughed aloud, hopping to her feet and leaping from the boulder. She sprinted back through the trees as fast as she could, calling.

"Elian! Elian!" She emerged into the campsite. Elian was piercing the rabbit numerous times with his knife, though the animal was already drained of fluids. He looked up and adopted an expression of genuine puzzlement as Alycie dropped to the ground in front of him, looking more cheerful than she had been in days. "I've found our way in to Urû'baen," she said.

"What is it?"

"Roofs."

"Roofs?"

"You know, the coverings on--"

"I know what roofs are," said Elian impatiently. "Tell me how they're going to get us into Urû'baen."

"Well, we can scale the wall, this is true," started Alycie. "_But_, we would have to drop from it to the streets and then, like you said, somehow weave through the streets, which are thick with guards. But what if we didn't use the streets?"

"You want to run along the rooftops," guessed Elian. Alycie nodded.

"There are hardly any guards on _top_ of the wall, and it's not much distance to the nearest rooftops from the top of the wall. We'll run along the rooftops until we reach the castle. Then, we can bring a rope with us and I could magic it up into a window and secure it so we can climb up. All we have to do then is stick to the shadows until we find our way around, which shouldn't be too hard. The guards will be _outside_ the castle, mainly, not inside. And if it's night, how many nobles do you think will be up sneaking around after their long days of living the luxury life?"

"There are too many assumptions in that plan to be sure of anything," said Elian.

"It's the best plan we've got. Now are you going to help me or not, because I'm going in there tonight either way," said Alycie. Elian looked at her.

This was a crossroads, and he recognized it for what it was. On the one hand, he could take Umbar once Alycie had left, and travel up north, maybe to the Spine, or south to the Beors to seek out the Varden. If he did that, however, there was a higher chance that Alycie would be captured or killed. He didn't know if he could live with that on his conscience. On the other hand, he could accompany her on her reckless infiltration and possibly help her pull off the plan, receiving a special recognition from the Varden and perhaps winning more of Alycie's trust. It was a difficult decision. He made up his mind in less than a minute.

"I suppose we'll be needing two ropes, then," he said, holding his hands palm-up in resignation. A smile crossed Alycie's face and she looked back at the city, calculating the accompanying details mentally as well as quietly under her breath. Elian turned the rabbit on the spit he had constructed over the fire. Dubious thoughts were flitting through his mind, but he ignored them with the firm hand of trust. If Alycie believed they could pull it off, he would follow her through it. Mainly to pull her out if and when her plan went up in flames.

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	23. The Setup and the Setback

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Short, and mainly written to build the anticipation. Unfortunately I may have to leave you hanging here until tomorrow or Sunday. Enjoy the buildiup, kittens!**

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In the hours before dusk, Alycie and Elian busied themselves with preparation for their mission. Elian had already set aside a lengthy line of coiled rope. All of his opposition to Alycie's plan, she noticed, had melted away to a mere memory, as if their argument had never been. The campfire had been stamped out and the ashes spread to hide the fact that they'd ever stopped there. Umbar had been stripped bare of his riding gear and now only stood tied by a loose portion of rope to a tree branch. They planned to ride him down the last stretch of distance between them and the capital before setting him free. As Alycie had pointed out, it wouldn't do well to leave him tied up outside of the city walls. Not with the possibility of their return so low.

Elian and Alycie agreed that for the mission, they could only keep what they were willing to carry. Alycie sat on the boulder on the slope of the hill once again, securing her knife inside the lining of her boot. Over her borrowed Falen attire, she strapped her leather belt in place, attaching her sheathe. Elian had taken the remainder of their supplies and took them off to store them in the hollow of a tree a ways off from their campsite. Alycie withdrew a whetstone from her pocket and ran it along the sharp edge of her blade, staring at Urû'baen thoughtfully.

Her mind wandered, unexplainably, to Murtagh. She was not so worried about finding the last dragon egg as she was about finding Murtagh. What state would he be in? What had they done to him? What if he was-- She shook off the last thought and buried it behind her other thoughts.

She would try to make it a priority to find Murtagh. If the egg quest proved too difficult, she would insist that they not leave empty-handed. Besides, Murtagh would be able to help them find their way out and fight anyone who might get in their way. Then they would be back on the run from the Empire, just like how it had been back when she had first met Eragon and Murtagh. They would head south towards the Varden, and now they could use the Hadarac passage again since Elian was a native and could locate water with ease. And without the innumerable legions of Kull and Urgals on their tail and without the pressure of a dying elf, they could make their way at a sane pace. A grin crossed her face. She couldn't wait to see Ajihad's and Eragon's faces when they saw Murtagh and her alive again. They would explain the Twins' treason and the adventures they'd been through on the outside, and then they would reveal the last egg. Oh the looks on their faces. She giggled. With the egg safe in their grasp, the Varden might be so encouraged that they would rally into a fighting force eager to take on the Empire. Then the spirited Varden would take every southern city one by one, liberating them from the control of the Empire and recruiting new fighters, building their numbers. Oh how the Empire would pale at the numbers that showed up on their doorstep. Even Galbatorix couldn't match that kind of power. The power of Alagaësia banded together against his rule...

The vision cleared and she saw, in place of an endless army, her own reflection in the sharpened silver of her blade. Her heart seemed to sink a few inches. It was unlikely, laughable even. But still, it was worth trying for.

She pondered her reflection for a moment, reaching up and pushing the loose, greasy strands of short hair out of her face. It had grown longer since she had cut it to her ears, and now it hung halfway to her shoulders in uneven chunks. She stared at the blue-gray eyes staring out of a dirt-coated, sun-browned face that was nearly unrecognizable to her. Her hair even seemed lighter. She wondered if Murtagh would recognize her.

Her mind swung back into motion and she blinked at the blade, looking into her own eyes in deep thought. Ever since they had left Petrøvya, she had not had one out-of-mind experience. Not one vision. Not one riddle. Not even a subconscious conversation with Stronghammer. It seemed that his advice had worked. Since she hadn't thought about it, it had gone away. But it seemed almost too simple.

Alycie looked back down at the silhouette of Urû'baen in the fading light. Her nerves seemed to have crept to the edge of a great precipice and were all holding their breath. As she thought of what they planned to do, her stomach turned a flip or two. It was a risky plan, she knew, and her conscience was raptly reminding her with jolts of guilt that she might be leading Elian to his death, much less herself. She rebuked her creeping second thoughts with a snap of resolve. They _would_ infiltrate the city and fortress, they _would_ steal the egg and rescue Murtagh, and they _would_ make it back out. Alive.

She scraped the whetstone across the blade's edge one last time with a flourish, and sheathed the weapon as she stood. She turned on the boulder and stepped towards the edge just as an inexplicable gnawing pain exploded in her head. She let out an agonized cry and lost her footing, pitching forward off of the boulder onto the ground. She landed hard on her shoulder and lay writhing and shrieking on the grass, her eyes clenched shut, body convoluted.

From what seemed a great distance she thought she heard someone call her name as the pain dissipated into a deep, icy cold. Two hands seized her shoulders and brought her to a sitting position against the boulder as she felt her body begin to shake violently. Her eyes eased open and moved up to connect with the icy blue, wide and worried eyes of Elian. She saw a flush of relief flood his face, only to be replaced almost immediately by worry.

"What happened? Are you alright?" he asked. Alycie could still feel herself shivering, despite her many layers of clothing. Elian seemed to notice it too, and he rubbed her arms briskly, trying to warm her up. She managed to control her chattering teeth long enough to speak.

"I-I-I d-don't kn-n-now," she said. "M-my head-d-d f-felt like it w-was on f-fire..." She tried to get up, but Elian pushed her down again. Alycie swallowed, pushing him off and getting to her feet, using the boulder as a brace. He stood slowly beside her, concern written all over his features.

"Maybe we shouldn't go in tonight," he said. Alycie shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said.

"How do you know? You don't even know what happened."

"I'm _fine_, Elian," said Alycie. "Let's start down." She started to walk, Elian close on her tail. He caught up with her hurried pace and followed her to where the barebacked Umbar stood, grazing on a patch of clover.

She pulled herself up onto his back and Elian hopped up behind her just as she kicked her heels into the horse's sides, sending him off at a gallop. Her mind was racing as they flew past the trees.

"Was it a vision?" Elian's voice phrased the same question that plagued her mind.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I didn't see anything," said Alycie. "But it felt like someone was trying to breach my mind."

"Breach?" asked Elian. Alycie merely nodded. She was too distracted to explain the workings of mental magic to the ignorant desert dweller.

They rode on as the sun continued its course of descent through the sky. By the time they reached the base of the hill, night had fallen and the stars were just blooming into sight above the faint blue glow of the horizon. They dismounted and cooed their goodbyes to Umbar, leading him away and sending him off into the woods at a swift trot. As Elian watched him go, Alycie lifted the coil of rope over her shoulder and neck, tying it securely across her torso.

"Alright. Let's go," she said. Elian caught her shoulder as she took a step, and he pressed a long, black fabric into her hand. She looked at it, then at him, puzzled. He took out one of his own and began to wrap it around his head, concealing everything but his eyes. Alycie nodded in comprehension, raising her eyebrows at his foresight, and wrapped her own head as well. The disguise restricted breathing, but it was just as well. They couldn't have the sounds of their breaths giving them away once inside.

"Are you sure you're alright? There's no need to make this more dangerous than it already is," said Elian cautiously. Alycie turned and her eyes connected with his, a determined spark passing between their gazes. Elian no longer needed to hear her words for confirmation.

They sprinted through the woods, sticking to the shadows of the trees. Eventually the brush and undergrowth cleared to reveal a tall, stone wall. Alycie removed the rope from her shoulder and untied the loose end, holding it before her.

"_Reisa_," she whispered. The end of the rope lifted from her hand, floating slowly through the air up to the battlements. It wrapped around a stone at the top and tied securely. Elian tugged the rope a few times to test for security and Alycie looked at him. "You can still back out. I'm not forcing you to help me," she said. In response, Elian raised an eyebrow, grasping the rope in one tanned, calloused hand. He placed his other hand over that one, pulling himself up onto the rope and beginning to climb up, his feet to the wall. Alycie felt a grin split her face as she grabbed the rope as well, leaving the ground and following him up and over into Urû'baen.

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	24. The Infiltration and the Investigation

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**Ok, this took me a few days to write. It's about nine to ten pages on Word, so be happy. Yes I know the last chapter was a filler. It was a necessary filler though, so don't complain. I had a few people telling me I wrote a filler. Yes I know it's a filler. All part of my master plan. In fact the entire story has been a filler since about chapter four. The entire book of **_**Eldest**_**, if you ask me, is just one big filler. I'm serious. Murtagh leaves, stuff happens, Eragon goes through about five hundred pages of training in elf arts, and then Murtagh comes back and is all muahaha. It's a huge filler. Anyway, I am totally done with the long boring part so I've finally gotten to the lovelies now. Makes me happy. Enjoy the chapter, chickens.**

**9/26/08- I've edited some...because I realized that this was a plan that wouldn't work and I want to go back to my original plan of excluding Murtagh for the course of the second one. So yeah...no more Murtagh...but instead it's a lot better. A good trade, I think. **

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The dark of night continued to descend upon the city, cloaking the alleys from sight, but the streets remained brilliantly lit by street lamps posted periodically along the lines of buildings that lined the cobblestone roads. Guards marched up and down these, stopping at the thin alleyways and peering down their long noses into the darkness. On the battlements of the wall that surrounded the city, the armored officials marched along, pausing to have a short word with one another and falling asleep periodically along the continuous wall. No one would be crazy enough to try to infiltrate Urû'baen by themselves, and if they had a force bigger than five people, there was no doubt that at least _one_ person would see it.

It was for this reason that they didn't notice the two dark figures who leapt swiftly from the battlements to the rooftops that lined a western street in the shadow of the castle. They moved in a short, fluid line, weaving around chimneys and ducking under clotheslines as they ran. The rooftops of the city were nearly connected, and the two figures crossed the alleys with little effort involved. They stopped here and there, listening for a shout or a nearby footstep, but nobody on the ground seemed to hear or see them. None within the houses either, for they were reinforced roofs. Roofs constructed to survive battles. The capital city would be equipped with battle-ready housing, of course.

Galbatorix's castle was a huge estate that filled the core of the city. An outer wall resembling the on that surrounded the entire city enclosed the many smaller servant homes and stables, as well as substantial grounds, not to mention the central castle itself. Throughout the city, there were at least four other castles, but none as extravagant or as big as the Emperor's. The others belonged to other nobles; perhaps formerly to the Forsworn. But now they only held ambitious dukes and others seeking the Emperor's approval.

The moon hung in the eastern sky, casting its light so that the western side of the city was shrouded in the shadow of the Emperor's lavish, ebony stone abode. The two dark figures of Elian and Alycie sank into these shadows and edged along them to the wall of the castle. Alycie muttered a few words over the rope and it leeched out of the coil, wrapping slowly around a battlement and tightening as Elian tugged it. They fastened the other end of it to the chimney of the rooftop on which they stood and each grabbed onto it, hanging sloth like upside down and edging along with their hands and feet, their eyes sweeping the street below every few seconds to make sure they wouldn't be seen. There were guards stationed a few blocks down on each side, and even one directly below, yet none glanced up to lay eyes on the two.

Alycie climbed off of the rope onto the wall with Elian's help, and they proceeded to slowly cut the rope and magically lift it back over to the other rooftop, so that it would not be found and an alarm raised. They both lowered into a crouch as their eyes fell on several soldiers lined up on the wall, these more alert than those patrolling the city itself. Elian and Alycie exchanged a glance, then sat back against the battlements in shadow, examining their surroundings. A courtyard lay about thirteen meters below, split by a cobblestone road that extended from the outer city towards the front oak doors and the large stone stable. The stables itself was the size of one of the bigger houses out in Urû'baen, and it was the smallest building inside these gates. Towers lined a large, boxlike structure dotted with windows and balconies all over. Many were lit, but the majority lay in darkness.

Elian nudged Alycie and she followed his gaze to see a nearby soldier pacing closer and closer to where they sat. Both of them rose to a crouch and flitted over the side of the wall, clinging to the jutting stones as the soldier passed overhead. Below, more soldiers stood guard, their eyes at ground-level. Alycie and Elian edged along the rock wall, stopping when they reached a point around the corner of a large tower that flanked the stables on one side. There was one guard within sight here, and he was quickly taken care of by a swift slice from Alycie's knife. They set him up against the wall in a sitting position with his head nodding onto his chest, creating the illusion that he had merely fallen asleep on the job. Not an unlikely situation judging by what they had seen so far.

The two of them flitted across the short stretch of ground as swift as shadows, clinging to the darkness of the tower as Alycie muttered to a second rope coiled over her shoulder, sending it snaking up the side of the castle wall and through a window to fasten on something. Once it was taught, they climbed onto it, bracing their feet against the wall and walking up slowly and silently in the pitch dark of the castle's shadow. When they reached the window where the rope was tied, both seated themselves on the sil, leaning so as not to disturb the drawn curtain, as Alycie slowly drew up the remainder of the rope. She charmed it to extend to a nearby dark window of a tower connected to the main castle, and it tied as it had done three times before, pulling tight at Elian's sharp tug. The two of them assumed sloth positions once again, scooting along the rope to the other tower.

Alycie did not sweep the ground with periodic glances this time. She felt that if she chanced even the slightest glance, she would lose all orientation, her grip would slip, and she would plunge nearly a hundred meters to her death. She gulped and put this thought out of her mind, focusing instead on the upside down image of the window ahead of her.

Elian slipped in without a hitch, reaching out and pulling Alycie over into the room as well. They untied the rope and Alycie pushed it out of the window, rather than hovering it back to the other tower. The magic was already taking its toll on her and she could feel beads of sweat materializing on her forehead from the effort, not to mention her fright and nerves from crawling across a rope 100 meters up from the ground.

The room they entered wasn't empty. It was a rather large, lavish bedroom furnished with a desk, a four-poster bed, rugs, tapestries, and even a mirror. But they did not look long. A curled up shape in the bed told them that if they stayed any longer, there was a good chance they would be caught. And at this stage in the game, risks were something they could not afford. The door opened almost silently and the two of them slipped out into the hallway, closing it behind them.

The castle hallways were long, Spartan, and constructed of obsidian stone with columns attributed with long, black, stone ceiling spikes and floor spikes. The hallway spread in both directions, with a doorway across that led to a spiral staircase. They entered it and swiftly descended, reaching an open archway that split off into a hallway that was not curved like the others, meaning they had reached the level that connected to the main castle. This they passed through, delving off into a shadowy corner to regroup.

"Where is the egg?" asked Elian, rolling down the dark fabric that covered his nose and mouth. Alycie hesitated as she uncovered her own nose and mouth, her heart sinking. The castle was far bigger than she'd imagined it would be. Now her plan, which had seemed so simple mere hours before, now looked nearly impossible.

"It's definitely in this building," she said slowly. "But whether at the top or the bottom, I am not sure. Perhaps we should--"

"Split up? No, Alycie, if one of us is caught by three or more soldiers, there is no way we'd be able to fight them off alone," hissed Elian. Alycie bit her lip.

"Then we shall have to try not to be caught by three or more," she replied in a whisper. Elian looked concerned. Alycie stared back, determined. He shrugged.

"Well, you're in charge," he said. Alycie didn't respond, but her look softened as a pang of misgivings shook her, but she forced it down and nodded.

"I'll search the lower floors. You take the halls here and down. If we don't find each other again by dawn, get yourself out. I'll meet you at the campsite. If one of us doesn't show up by tomorrow..." A silence fell upon them, swallowing the rest of her statement.

"We'll meet in the stables," said Elian after a moment. "Neither of us leaves without the other." Alycie looked at him.

"And if one of us is captured?"

"The other one runs back in to break them out and risks getting captured themselves," said Elian. Alycie thought, then nodded.

"Not bad. I'll see you near dawn, then," she said, turning away.

"Alycie."

"Wha--" Alycie turned, only to find Elian two steps closer to her, his hand on her shoulder. She froze, her eyes widening as the gap between them closed and his lips met hers in a sudden kiss. He broke away after a moment, pulling up his mask and turning away. He disappeared around the corner as Alycie broke from her trance and reaffixed her own mask, turning and hurrying down the marble hall in the other direction.

It wasn't long before Alycie began to feel the cold clawing tendrils of panic creeping over her consciousness as she snuck through the halls of the castle. On every floor there was a guard of four to five men, and it took all of her stealth and silence to get past their vigilance. Because of their presence, her planned excavation of the castle was not turning out as planned. In fact, she had not been able to leave the staircase because of them, and so far was only descending, descending, descending.

The ground came sooner than she expected. The door emerged into a dark stable on one side and a cellar on the other. Alycie took one glance at the cellar before turning the other way and walking into the stable. Two rows of stalls filled with the finest pure bred horses lined the stone walls. Quite a few carts were set against the far wall, one of which wasn't empty...

Alycie breathed in as the age-old vendetta came surging through her, filling her with rage. Slaves. There were slaves. They were all asleep, lying with their bodies leaned up against the wooden bars. Alycie turned and looked around. There was nobody there but the horses and the sleeping slaves. After a moment's hesitation, she turned on her heel and swiftly ran towards the cage, drawing her blade as she ran.

The lock was looped around a chain threaded through two of the bars. Alycie lifted her sword and brought it crashing down on the metal, striking it again and again with the tip of the blade, trying to break the hard iron.

"Hey! Hey you!" The cry brought her to a dead stop and her head whipped around to see a guard coming towards her, sword drawn, from the wall. She cursed. Of course she hadn't been able to see behind the stall closest to the cart, there had been a guard there! Stupid stupid--

She turned and met his attack with her own sword, parrying. He called out something and Alycie saw another guard run from the other side of the cart. There had been two of them!? How oblivious had she been?

As she turned to parry the other soldier's blow, the first soldier pulled back his fist and punched her across the face. Alycie felt her nose crack as her head flew sideways and the other guard kicked her legs, whipping them out from underneath her. She fell against the cart and the first soldier stomped on her hand, loosing the blade from her fingers and kicking it away underneath the cart. Alycie felt her fingers begin to swell as she lolled her head up to look at them and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could say anything in the Ancient Language however, the second guard kicked her sharply in the side, turning her words to a cry of pain.

She felt twin rough grips take her arms and pull her to her feet, holding her tightly. The fabric fell from her face and her hair touched her neck. The soldiers were muttering to each other now, patting her down to search for other weapons. She could feel them lingering in certain areas but felt too weak from both the fight and her earlier magic use to do anything.

_Elian,_ she thought. Where would he be? What would he do when she did not come to meet him? Would he be captured as well? She felt the same burning resentment settle through her that had always done whenever she took an unnecessary risk. It brought back Gil'ead in full color. The soldiers were arguing now.

"She's just a troublemaker trying to free these slaves. I don't see any interest the higher-ups would have in this," one said.

"She broke into the castle and assaulted two soldiers," disputed the other. The first shook his head.

"Just throw her in with the others; she can go be a slave herself as punishment," he said. The other looked skeptical, but he removed a key from his belt and inserted it into the lock, unchaining the door to the cart and opening it slightly. Together they hefted her limp body inside and shut the door once more. The other slaves slept on, as though they had not done so in days or as if they were drugged. The soldiers began to walk away when Alycie dragged herself close to the bars and let her body sag against them, looking after one of them as he returned to his post at the wall.

"Do you often do this?" she asked, her anger spurring on her mouth. He glanced at her. "Lock up innocents and sell them off as slaves?"

"You are not an innocent. You broke into the palace of a noble and attempted to free the slaves meant for sale in Dras-Leona." Alycie felt her heart sink. Dras-Leona? She needed Elian. She needed somebody to get her out now. Alycie began to open her consciousness, but stopped almost immediately. If Galbatorix felt her...if Murtagh felt her...well now they were the same thing, weren't they? She closed her mind and instead opened her mouth and screamed.

The scream intensified and became bloodcurdling, ripping her throat with it's claws as it escaped her lungs. She had barely the time to flinch before the hilt of the soldier's sword met her skull with formidable force, knocking her back and turning the light to dark.

Then every particle in her body erupted with sudden, mind-numbing, unimaginable pain before she lost consciousness as a tirade of images swept before her mind's eye.

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	25. The Cage and the Convicts

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_**.**

**This chapter has now been updated as of 9/26**

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The cart left at dawn before the city had awoken, but Alycie did not awaken until the sun was already high in the sky. She watched the scenery move by at a slow pace as the cart crossed through it and did not sleep again, but as dawn broke the second day, she could no longer keep her eyes open and she drifted off into slumber, her head lolling against the bars of the cart.

It was nearly noon when she was pulled back to consciousness as the wheel ran over a large stone, jolting the cart and everyone in it. She looked around in surprise, but only saw deserted plain for miles around. There was nothing out here. She furrowed her brow. Nothing...meaning no shelter. Had Elian followed her? Had he known she had been taken from the city? Had he heard her scream? Looking around as she did now, it did not seem he had.

The other captive slaves did not speak much as they rode along. There were a good five or six of them, mostly male, with one other female, all slumped against the sides of the cage. The men were generally older, with patches of silver and gray hair interrupting their solid colors, and the woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, with a dirty face and long, scraggly hair. Alycie thought she herself must look about the same, and didn't dwell on it.

"Where they takin' us again?" asked one man with fading red hair late into the second day of travel.

"Dras-Leona," replied another man with pure white hair curled around his ears. "Where all the captive slaves go." The woman shifted at this, looking over with wide eyes.

"Slaves? But...but shouldn't it just be a prison sentence or something? I mean...we were captured by the Emperor's officials. The slave trade in Dras-Leona is an illegal black market."

"No it isn't," said Alycie, looking over at her. "It's a thriving business that is partially dependent on civil disruptors of the peace."

"But the Emperor--"

"The Emperor funds it," said another man, one with shining silver hair. The woman shook her head vigorously, her dusty red curls waving wildly.

"No no, I don't believe that. I've lived in Urû'baen all my life being a good respectable citizen, and the Emperor, I assure you, has been nothing but kind and accommodating to our city. Even while beating away those horrid Varden, he still manages to make time for improvements in Urû'baen."

"If you love him so much, why did you disobey his laws and end up in this hellhole?" asked a man with pepper-and-salt hair that hung to his shoulders. The woman looked suddenly hurt.

"That was my own fault," she said, her nose in the air. "I had no money, so I attempted to swipe some food from the market. I was caught, and that's why I'm here."

"So, in the eyes of the Emperor, all who are hungry enough to steal should be damned to a lifetime of slavery," said Alycie. The woman looked outraged.

"That's not what I meant! You're twisting my words!"

"You're twisting your imagery of the Emperor," said the man with pepper-and-salt hair, his mouth twitching in a wry smile. The woman crossed her arms and looked away.

"I just won't talk to any of you convicts. You'll corrupt me." The man with pepper-and-salt hair snorted.

"As if you need any more corrupting," he muttered.

"What's your name?" asked Alycie, looking at him. His eyes met hers and she saw they were clouded over with silver cataracts.

"Donnel," he said.

"What are you in for, Donnel?" asked Alycie. The man smirked, repositioning himself against the bars of the cage.

"Killing a man," he replied. "One of the king's men. I was on the wanted posters around town for two weeks until they found me."

"Why'd you kill him?" asked the red-haired man.

"Because I think it's high time we start taking our country's destiny into our own hands and fighting back against the oppressive rule of a man corrupted by both power and madness," replied Donnel, his eyes growing sharp.

"For all you know, that soldier could have been thinking the same thing," said Alycie. Donnel looked at her.

"The soldier? One of his men? They volunteered to support his cause!"

"My brother is a soldier for Galbatorix," said Alycie icily. The man fell silent. "I can assure you he did not plan for it. They captured him as we escaped from Dras-Leona after he killed his master. Back then we didn't know anything about Galbatorix, and I suppose his choice was between becoming a soldier for a leader he knew next to nothing about or death. Anyone would have chosen that path."

"And if they did know what Galbatorix was doing?" asked Donnel. "And they joined anyway?"

"Those are the soldiers worth killing," said Alycie.

"Your brother was a slave then?" asked the red-haired man. Alycie glanced his way.

"Yes, we both were. I'm not from Urû'baen. I'm from Dras-Leona. My brother and I escaped and were separated...I don't know how long ago. A year ago? Two or three?" Alycie stopped. She had not known how long it had been since she had seen Garrick, and thinking of him now caused a wave of homesickness to wash over her. Homesickness for family. Home had been wherever her family was.

"What's your name?" asked Donnel, regarding Alycie with filmy eyes.

"Alycie," she replied. Her mouth turned up in a smirk. "And I'm on the wanted posters in several cities throughout Alagaësia." The white haired man looked up.

"You mean you're the one that's wanted for cavorting with the Riders?" he asked in a voice dripping with awe. The others looked at him in shock, then at Alycie, who raised an eyebrow.

"Is that what they say?" she asked, feeling a little twinge of unease.

"You've seen the Riders?" asked Donnel.

"Yes, we traveled together for a time," said Alycie. "But not for long, and it was before he was a Rider." The red haired man spoke up.

"I thought there was only one Rider," he said. Alycie frowned.

"There is." To her intense surprise, Donnel shook his head. The white-haired man spoke.

"You've not heard of the new red Rider? He stays locked up in Urû'baen. That's the Rider that's Galbatorix's pawn. I heard he's that son of Morzan, the last of the Forsworn." Alycie felt her stomach drop. _Murtagh._

"But the other Rider is the one on the Varden's side, right?" asked the red-haired man. The white-haired man nodded.

"I have a feeling there will be a war coming soon over this. The war of the last remaining Riders. Right now though, Galbatorix has favor, what with his own dragon in addition to the red Rider."

"So you finally got caught?" asked Donnel. Alycie held up her hands, gesturing around, trying her best to seem nonchalant after the shock.

"Did the cage clue you in?" she asked.

"If you've remained out of captivity for so long, why did you suddenly allow yourself to get caught?"

"I was trying to steal something from Galbatorix's palace," said Alycie. There was a hush, with a gasp from the woman, who had since turned back to the group, but had said not a word.

"You broke into the palace?" repeated Donnel. His brow furrowed. "They caught you and sent you away? But you're notorious. It would have been immediate execution, wouldn't it?"

"They didn't recognize me," shrugged Alycie. Donnel looked at her in disbelief, then roared in laughter, slapping his knees.

"Those idiots! They really had no idea!" he cackled.

"What were you stealing?" asked the white-haired man.

"Well, at the moment of capture, you all, but I'd broken in for another purpose," said Alycie.

"Freeing slaves...what a crime compared with breaking into the palace. I'd like to see the guards who discovered you; their brainpower must be a marvel of the world," said the white-haired man, shaking his head. Donnel leaned in.

"Did you see him?" he asked.

"Who?" asked Alycie.

"The red Rider."

"No," said Alycie. Yet now she was not sure whether that was good or bad. She found herself apprehensive about how much under the control of Galbatorix he had become if he was indeed the red Rider.

"I was caught stealing too," the red-haired man spoke up. Everyone's heads turned towards him and he hesitated, looking nervous, but stuttered on. "I...I was walking, and I saw this gold chain...an-and gold chains don't come along that often and I knew I could get a good price for it so...so I grabbed it...but then she started screaming..."

"Who did?" asked the white haired man, his brow furrowing. The red-haired man paused.

"Oh, the woman wearing it."

"You tried to steal a gold chain right off a woman's neck?" said Alycie in disbelief as Donnel roared with laughter.

"They don't come 'round that often," shrugged the red-haired man. Donnel slapped his knees, shaking his head. He looked up at the white-haired man.

"Alright, old man, why are you here?"

"Killed my wife and daughter," said the man, his calm smile twitching. Donnel hesitated, his laughter slowing but his grin still not quite faded.

"You're putting us on," he said. The white-haired man shook his head in a sort of solemn calm.

"I'm not," he said simply. Donnel ran a hand through his hair, his good nature leaving entirely, replaced by disgust.

"Hell's teeth, why, old man!?" he exclaimed. The man shook his head.

"Do not make it your problem. I have enough demons haunting me without meeting anymore."

No one spoke after that, under the curtain of shocked awkwardness that descended. Alycie used her time to peruse the landscape, sharpening her vision whenever she came upon a potential shelter, searching for Elian. In the times in between these sudden searches, she experimented with her consciousness, reaching out and prodding her cellmates', indulging in a few of their memories. Some were visibly offset by the intrusion, but none of them could trace it, and Alycie was under the guise of sleep as she worked.

It appeared that the frizzy-haired woman was just as she appeared to be: a snobbish low class citizen who was horribly brainwashed under the current rule. Her story seemed to fit, though she had left out her begging and pleading to the soldiers who had delivered her to the cage.

The red-haired man was a strange case. He did not take into account obvious factors, resulting in an endless stream of social blunders throughout his life, culminating in his stealing of the gold chain, which had been affixed around the neck of a noblewoman. Without warning he had walked up to her in the street and attempted to rip it from her neck, but the guards had arrived in record timing and pulled him away. He often stole anything he saw that sparked his interest without regard for onlookers or bystanders.

Donnel was predictable at this point, with his rebellious nature towards the Emperor and all soldiers of the Empire. He was a member of underground weapons markets as well as a solicitor of private rebel meetings. Often he had fought with guards and gotten away, but this had been his first kill, and he showed only the slightest remorse.

From the old man, Alycie drew a blank. The memory was blotted out from invader's view, and quite possibly the old man's view as well. His earlier memories puzzled Alycie, however, because they were of his life which had been quite happy up until the blank. He had loved his family. He had also shown a certain displeasure with the current rule. Alycie did not doubt that that had had some part to play in his crisis.

Not a day later they arrived in Dras-Leona. Alycie could barely suppress her utter desolation at returning through the wooden gates she thought she had left behind forever as they entered the central section. It had not changed much at all. The haphazardly-built buildings still clustered together like sticks in a bonfire, some abodes layering over others in their placement. There were the usual daily consumers and blundering drunkards staggering about, along with the occasional slave running to fetch a thing or two from the market for their masters. The sight of the governor's castle off in the distance over the dirty slab roofs of the city brought a wave of hatred back over Alycie's mind, heating her blood and icing her heart.

Guards assisted them upon their departure from the cart and they were quickly dispersed to surrounding buildings, split as they were taken. From what Alycie heard, Donnel was taken to a noblewoman's home while the old man and the red-haired man were spirited away to a trader's venue.

"And where am I to be enslaved?" Alycie asked the metal-clad soldier who was leading her roughly along, his fist holding her arm in an iron grip.

"Governor's Palace for you," he replied in a gruff voice. "Ye'll be a servant in his household." Alycie could have laughed out loud, but her hatred was too cold for any tribute to irony to be performed. They crossed the cobblestone walk and Alycie was slowly led up to the mansion where she had spent some of the earliest and worst years of her life in servitude and captivity, alone.

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	26. The Return and the Reminiscence

**Disclaimer: Don't own **_**Eldest**_**.**

**Updated as of 9/26**

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It's funny how being away from a hated place for years and years doesn't lower the previous hatred of it. If anything, it increases it, because you find other places, many places, far better than that you had been in and you come to realize all that could have been had you merely been relocated. All the possibilities and all of the misery and suffering you could have escaped had you just been a few miles west or north or south or east, or if you had just bothered to escape sooner, before the place set into your blood.

These regrets Alycie was feeling now as she was led up the familiar path to the palace. It had not changed at all since she had left. It wdas incredibly strange to walk back in through the servant's entrance, the very entrance she had escaped through years earlier. It was disappointing almost, like she had failed. Her escape suddenly seemed as if it had encompassed the past years and she had finally been caught and returned. It was depressing.

"Move along there," said the guard, pushing her ahead through the doorway. She ducked as she did so out of age-old habit while the guard that followed her let out a sharp yell of pain as his head collided with the low doorway. A smirk crossed her face. He deserved at least some sort of punishment for returning her. Donnel had been assigned to the palace as well, and he followed with his own guard behind him.

"Get off me! I can walk by myself you bastard!" he snapped at his guard. Alycie snorted under her breath. As if the guards would respond any more accommodatingly with these demands. It was all you could expect from a rebel, though, she thought.

They were pulled along the marble hallways and corridors, so familiar to Alycie that it could have been only just the day before that she had last walked them. She glanced up at the tall portrait that hung on the wall. It depicted a tall and slender woman with a neck encircled with pearls. It was the same portrait she had spoken to Brom about upon their first meeting so long ago. There were two new portraits on either side of that one however, she noticed. It seemed that two of the earl's three wives had since passed on and been commemorated next to their predecessor.

They were marched through another door into the kitchen where the guards took up positions behind each of them, holding their tied hands to prevent escape. Donnel looked back over his shoulder at his guard.

"What now then? What are we waiting for, our final initiation into an oppressive life of bondage from which there is no escape?"

"Jus' waitin fer the madam in charge o' the servants to come round an' collect ye," replied his guard. Alycie felt her eyes widen. Vivaria? Was she possibly still alive? _How_ was she still alive? A woman of her age... But she would definitely recognize her from the old days. With her embarrassment from having one of those in her charge run off right under her nose, Vivaria would not be likely to show mercy.

The clicking of heels echoing off the outer hallway reached their ears and the guards both straightened. Alycie prepared herself for Vivaria's sharp screeching shouts and her piercing glare. She glanced at Donnel. He seemed to be covering his fear with defiance. Fool. He would be broken soon enough.

"Right, let's see the fresh meat," said a tired voice as a thin woman entered the room, brushing back her hair. Alycie furrowed her brow. It wasn't Vivaria that stood before them now. The woman lifted the lantern she held and shone the light over the two captive's faces, her own hidden in shadow. "Hmm...they look healthy enough," she said, lowering the light and addressing the guards. "You are no longer needed; I can take it from here."

The two guards let go of Donnel and Alycie and lumbered off out of the room, leaving them alone with the strange woman. She placed a hand on her hip, lowering the lantern and sighing. "Right. What are your names?"

"Donnel," replied Donnel. Alycie paused when the woman's face turned to hers.

"And you?"

"Alycie," she said. The woman paused, lifting her lantern slowly once again and holding it up to Alycie's face, so close that the light hurt her eyes. She squinted past the light, trying to see the woman's face. The light lowered suddenly, leaving Alycie seeing colorful spots in the sudden dark. She blinked and the woman walked around them, pushing them forward.

"Walk this way," she said, leading them out of the room. They did not re-enter the hallway, as the guards had done, but rather took a side door, strolling through a small stone corridor that was obviously primarily for servant use. At the end of the corridor they emerged into what looked like a storage room, filled with boxes of flasks and baskets of food, along with sacks of old clothing, which the woman rummaged through now, tossing a few items back at Alycie and Donnel.

"These will be your new clothes. You'll burn those rags you wear now." She waved a hand and walked through the next door, Donnel and Alycie following close behind. They emerged into a small room filled with wooden chairs and benches with a single table in the center. "This is the common room for the servants. The quarters," she gestured at a side door, "are through there. The men's bunks are to the left, the women's to the right. You go to sleep when I give the order."

"Why are all of the rooms so dark?" asked Donnel.

"The masters have gone to sleep, and so must the servants. The lights keep them up," replied the woman.

"But there are no windows," objected Donnel.

"Doesn't matter," snapped the woman. "Any questions, bring them to me. Any complaints, keep them to yourself. You are not to speak to the masters and mistresses unless spoken to. No one from outside the mansion may visit without mine or the master's approval. Escapes will be punished accordingly." Though Alycie couldn't see her face, the message was made perfectly clear by the subtle movement of the woman's face towards hers. "You will be woken at dawn. Get to bed."

Alycie watched Donnel as they walked to the door. She wondered if he would try to escape right off or if he would wait a day. She doubted he would remain obedient more than 48 hours before attempting some sort of stunt.

"Alycie, hold on a moment," the woman's voice said from behind them. They both hesitated, but Alycie turned and walked back to the woman while Donnel entered the servant's quarters. She led her to the corner of the common room and pulled over two chairs. They sat down and the woman leaned forward eagerly.

"I can't believe you made it," she said, her voice a hushed whisper. Alycie raised an eyebrow.

"Well I didn't exactly, seeing as I'm back here now," she said.

"Yes, but for two years? That's more than anyone else here can say," replied the woman. Alycie felt the corners of her mouth lift in a smile.

"I've missed you, Meliana."

"I've missed you too. Tell me all about what's happened? The last news I heard of you was posted up on a wanted poster in the center of town."

"You have a lot to tell me too, it seems. So you're Vivaria's successor. Tell me, please, how did the old bat die? Was it painful?" Alycie clasped her hands hopefully.

"Don't be morbid. She died in her sleep," said Meliana. Alycie cursed. Meliana laughed, but shook her head in disbelief. "You've changed so much..."

"Have I?" asked Alycie.

"You look completely different. I barely recognized you when I first saw you," said Meliana. Alycie reached up, brushing back a lock of her hair and frowning.

"How so?"

"Well for one thing your hair is far shorter and lighter than I remember it. Your face is darker, you're thinner, and you have small scars over your hands and face." Alycie ran a hand over her face self-consciously.

"Really? Well you don't look much like yourself either, Meliana. Your hair is longer and pulled back, and you seem more stressed than you were back in the old days."

"New positions bring new worries," said Meliana, shrugging.

"Your commanding is remarkable," said Alycie. "You're like a bearable Vivaria. You have her efficiency but your own heart. A far better combination, I'd say."

"Enough about me. Tell me about your travels," said Meliana impatiently. "Why were you on a wanted poster? And for so much! There was talk you were with a Rider...and the Varden!"

Alycie nodded, but hesitated, looking at the floor. She didn't know what to say. She had been through so much in the past two years, was still going through a lot. There were so many things to be kept secret, and so many that she would not, could not understand. Alycie shook her head.

"I can't even begin to explain it to you," she said. Meliana looked puzzled. Alycie continued, "I'm sorry. So much has happened, and is still...I can't be sure any secrets I divulge would be kept so. You know how word travels through the Empire. Like wildfire. I'm not doubting your ability to keep a secret, but I can't afford that someone might overhear or force it from you." She felt a pang as her friend's smile sank to a troubled frown. "These are dangerous times, Meliana, far more so than you would comprehend, living here. I've seen things...I've seen war..." She shook her head. Meliana was silent for a moment.

"Oh...I see," she said. Alycie looked at her friend.

So much time had passed, so many things had happened, it was now as if a lifetime had passed rather than just two short years. They were two different people now than they had been back then, and there were now barriers between them that could never be relinquished. From that day when she had escaped and Meliana remained, their paths had woven over completely different landscapes, and here at the end they met with two different appearances, and two different pasts. Things could never be the same as they were, and this timid familiarity would not last long without the common ground that had for so long stood beneath them, supporting their friendship. That ground was now shattered, and they had fallen apart.

"Well...you should get some sleep," said Meliana, rising to her feet. "You'll regret it if you don't at least get a few hours." Alycie stood as well.

"I probably should," she said, picking up her wadded up substitute clothing. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Don't expect me to be bright and cheerful. I won't go easy on you even if you are my oldest friend," said Meliana. Alycie nodded, turning. She walked to the door of the servants' quarters and hesitated just as Meliana reached the door to the hall. They both looked back at each other, holding each other's gazes for a single moment that seemed to last for hours.

"Goodnight, Meliana," said Alycie.

"Goodnight, Alycie," said Meliana. Their eyes broke contact and they each disappeared through the doors, heading off to bed with heavy hearts sore with sadness.

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	27. The Envoy and the Envenomed

**Disclaimer: Don't own Eldest**

**  
Thank you Reine Snow for boosting my resolve to actually update this. I've been meaning to, but I just needed that last shove over the cliff. **

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The next day Alycie found herself washing dishes for the first time in two years down in the servant's kitchen. Oh the skills one never forgets. Swordfighting? Well that can get a little rusty, but _dishwashing_. Now that's a skill to keep with you forever. To top it all off, she had even been placed with an enthusiastic partner to help with the workload.

"I am sick and tired of this servant's work!" exclaimed Donnel, throwing the rag back into the sudsy water and drenching them both with the resulting splash.

"We've only been here for three hours," said Alycie, calmly wiping her face off with the towel and resuming her work drying the plates. Donnel looked at her in amazement.

"How can you not be frustrated by now?" he asked. "You've been free and adventuring up til now since your escape! Are you not insulted by this captivity? You've escaped once; you can do it again without difficulty, so why don't you?" Alycie looked at him.

"I am waiting to hear news of the enemy's plan before I go running off to who knows where," she heard herself say. Actually she had not thought of that at all, but it seemed to be a rather good idea now that she considered it. "This city is crawling with soldiers, weak soldiers, but soldiers informed with the army's plans all the same. If a big battle were to take place, and I have reason to believe it will, news of it would certainly be found here."

"A great battle?" repeated Donnel, awed. "Are you going to fight?"

"Yes," said Alycie.

"Take me with you!" exclaimed Donnel. "I can help! I can fight!"

"Sshhh," hissed Alycie, putting a finger to her lips. She glanced back over her shoulder at the open door. There was silence from the hallway. She looked back at Donnel. "I will try to take you with me, but only if I can trust you to not do anything rash until we get there. We can't afford to be caught."

"I'd say we were already caught," said Donnel, grinning. Alycie snorted.

"Captured and forced to do hard labor with the dishes," she commented, holding up a bowl dripping in suds. Footsteps silenced them immediately and a moment later Meliana entered, striding up behind them to observe their progress.

"Slacking off a bit, were we?" she demanded.

"No, Miss, some of these plates just needed an extra good scouring," replied Donnel brusquely. Alycie glanced at him. He wasn't a bad liar, she noted.

"Get a move on then," snapped Meliana, whirling around and marching back into the hallway.

"She's a scary one," commented Donnel, offhand.

"Not always," said Alycie.

"You know her?"

"Yes," said Alycie simply. Donnel looked as though he wished to question further, but restrained himself, focusing back on the towel in his hands.

"You say your brother's in the army."

"Yes."

"Do you know his rank?" asked Donnel. Alycie raised an eyebrow.

"No," she replied. "Why?"

"He could be one of the generals leading the attacks on other cities. He could be a forefront leader of the army in this new battle you're talking about," said Donnel.

"True," said Alycie. She didn't say any more. It hadn't occurred to her that her brother could have excelled as a soldier and gained a position of higher power in the ranks. The thought made her uneasy. She put it out of her mind.

They did not speak any more throughout the remainder of their work, and were soon separated to perform different tasks. Alycie was glad of this. Donnel was nice enough, but too long with a rebel of his magnitude would drive anyone up a wall. She was soon given enough busywork to give her mind a bit of rest and keep her hands working, mopping away at the marble floors of the palace.

It would only be a few days she would remain here, at the most. In that time she would have to find what the army was planning in enough detail that it would satisfy the Varden. Alycie hesitated. Was she suddenly working to appease the Varden? Why? She'd done nothing wrong; nothing worth apologies or remittances. She slopped the mop's bedraggled head back into the bucket, slapping the water out onto the floor and swirling it.

She needed to leave...she needed to get out and find what the enemy was planning. There were far too many troops in Dras-Leona...something was brewing...

Alycie stared at her reflection in the wet surface of the floor she was mopping. She did really look different. She reached up and touched her face, running her fingers along the thin scar lines that flawed her features. She looked at her hands then. They were covered with many more. Her reflection in the water was so different than the one that had once stared back at her not so long ago. It was unrecognizable from her time with the Varden, far darker and somehow rougher. Alycie watched her own smile fade into a look of deep thought. It was as if she had lost her identity and gained a new one. Would the Varden recognize her? Would Eragon? Would Murtagh? Garrick?

Alycie broke from her reverie and resumed her mopping. Garrick was another problem. She had not thought of him for so long, but her conversations with her fellow captives had jarred her concern. Had her brother been twisted by the war? He was probably fighting battles for the Empire, true, but Jurdan had been in the army as well and he had hardly changed at all. Then again...his position might have not been of the same magnitude as...

"Alycie," came a sharp voice. She looked up to see Meliana standing there. Alycie leaned on the mop, looking at her new boss.

"Yes?" Meliana strode forward and handed out a letter. Alycie took it, turning it over between her fingers. On one side it was sealed with a hardened circle of burgundy wax pressed and imprinted with the mark of the governor of Dras-Leona, and the owner of the palace. On the other side, no name was written, only the word 'Captain', in decorative handwriting. Alycie looked up at her superior, both eyebrows raised. Meliana was smiling now.

"Deliver this message to the Captain of the Emperor's army positioned here in town.""

"Are you sure it's wise, letting out a slave on an errand who so recently was first taken into captivity?" asked Alycie, smirking. Meliana raised her head.

"I believe you will not cross me," she said. "After all, I am granting you an outing, a chance to see the sights and hear the news if you're quick about things." She turned and headed off down the hall. "I would appreciate it too, Alycie, if you did not question my authority."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Alycie, smirking. She turned as well, walking quickly with the letter and mop in hand. She leaned the mop up against the wall of the servant's entrance and stepped out of the palace onto the grounds, walking the familiar beaten path across the green to the main town.

Upgraded in less than a day from dishwasher to a messenger to the Emperor's army. Not bad at all. Alycie's feet slapped the cobblestones as she emerged onto the bustling street. It was midday and the city was alive with activity as everyone trudged about to their duties. She hesitated a moment, then began to walk at a leisurely pace along the street.

She did not know where the higher-ups of the army would be stationed in such a place as Dras-Leona. The normal guards were easy enough to locate, positioned at every corner, but she had never known exactly where they kept those who weren't blundering dunderheads assignable to guard duty.

After a minute or two of consideration, Alycie settled on the prison as the most accurate guess she was likely to make and turned about in that direction, setting off.

The Dras-Leona prison was often full though not often with the right people. The local guards were not particularly famous for their accuracy. More for their intensity. They picked up only on the slightest crimes and sometimes carried in people who had done no wrong at all. But that was how Dras-Leona stayed Dras-Leona; the city run by criminals and inhabited by criminals.

As she stepped inside the dark stone prison, Alycie was reminded of why she always grew fearful at Vivaria's constant threats of throwing her out into the street into the hands of the lawkeepers. There was little light, but what the torches on the wall illuminated was not much more than dust-smeared grey stone walls and floor. A person could easily go mad here in the darkness, she thought. The agonized screams echoing through the halls reinforced that thought only too well.

"State yer business," grunted a large bald man in a thick leather vest standing, arms crossed, by the wall, leering down at her. Alycie held up the envelope.

"Message for the Captain of the Guard. Might I find him here?" she asked. The bald man's mouth turned down in a growl.

"Funny ye should look 'ere first. Most folk'd look fer an officer at the Governor's palace," he observed. Alycie was taken slightly aback by his sharpness.

"I've just come from there," she said. "This seemed the second most likely place." The man narrowed his eyes, but let her pass him without another word. She glared back over her shoulder once before turning the corner at the end of the hall and walking towards an unbarred door protected by two guards.

"You. Halt," said one. Alycie held up the paper.

"Message for the Captain from the Governor's Palace," she said. The guards checked the seal, then looked back at Alycie.

"Very good, we will deliver it." Alycie was struck with a sudden thought.

"I'm supposed to deliver a reply," she said, snatching the letter back from the guards, "and to make sure it was delivered directly." They stared at her in fury, but she stared them right back in the eye without so much as blinking. Then one of the guards entered the room, briefly stating her arrival, and motioned her inside ruefully. A smug smirk lifted the corners of her lips as she strode past them. Idiots.

The Captain was a tall, but slight man, with wavy golden brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He stood with his back to the door, looking out of a barred window at the city with his hands behind his back. Alycie walked nearer to him.

"Message for you, Captain, from the Governor," she said.

"Leave it on the table there," said the Captain, unmoving from his stance by the window.

"I'm supposed to bring back a reply," said Alycie. She added hastily, "His lordship requested it."

"Very well, read it," said the Captain. Alycie paused.

"Pardon?"

"Read me what the Governor has written and then you will get your reply," said the Captain. Alycie paused. This would be easier than she had thought it would be. She snapped the seal and unfolded the parchment, squinting at the words.

"_The full moon approaches tomorrow night, and I would request that you oversee the transference of the oil to Helgrind. The slaves I have selected for the operation will not be so easily contained as others have been, but I have no need for them and wish to be rid of them. They are new, you see, and have too much rebellion in their blood for effective service. As an added tribute, I shall give to you a woman of mine, Meliana, who--" _Alycie paused, but caught herself quickly,_ "shall undoubtedly be to your pleasure should you accept her. The caravan shall be ready to deliver at dusk tomorrow._ If you do so accept to mine request, send back a reply with the envoy including the predicted numbers you plan to send and where we shall meet."

Alycie looked up as she finished, mentally congratulating herself on the fluency with which the letter melded with her own added inquiries at the end. She waited with baited breath for the Captain's reply.

"That's it, then?" asked the Captain.

"Yes," said Alycie. The Captain hesitated a moment.

"You are a slave at the palace, are you?" he asked.

"Funny," muttered the Captain softly, "you read as well as a freeman." Alycie felt her blood run cold.

"I was taught," she said.

"No 'Sir' or 'Captain'?" observed the Captain. Alycie's stomach dropped and she kicked herself mentally.

"Sorry, Sir," she added, though it was all too late.

"The Governor never sends his slaves as envoys, nor does he often require a response, wench, you've given yourself away!"

Alycie turned and hurried for the door, but at a snap of the Captain's fingers, the guards swung two oak doors into place, securing the barrier tightly before she could reach it. Alycie turned to face the Captain, panicked, her fists held tight, jaw set. The Captain turned then.

"Now, then, are you a rebel?" Their eyes connected. Alycie felt her preparation and mental shields shatter as her eyes met the two green irises of the Captain, and her mouth went slack. Her mind blanked as a single name ran through it.

"Garrick..." The Captain, her brother, furrowed his brow, his expression darkening considerably, lining its sharp corners with malice.

"How do you know that name?" he spat. Alycie didn't answer. She closed her eyes; shut them tight. He walked closer, seizing her jaw and forcing her to look at him. "Open your eyes! How do you know me?" he shouted. Alycie complied, though her vision was blurred as she looked into the contorted face of her only family through a sudden thin film of tears.

"You changed..." she whispered through his grip. She saw his eyes widen madly, more warning in them than recognition. He looked up at the door behind which the guards still stood at their posts, then back down at her. She could see a sheen glossing over his eyes as well, though it did not soften his piercing glare. Quite the opposite.

"F-Fourteen men," he managed to say through gritted teeth. "At the gate." He walked to the door, dragging her backwards with his hand about her jaw, thrusting her into the hallway. "Get out!" The door closed with an echoing slam behind her.


	28. The Apprehension and the Inferno

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Eldest**_**.**

**OK…I'm the worst updater in the world, I know. Anyway, I wanted to get through this part. Yes I know it's climactic, but I wanted it over and done with. It probably doesn't make much sense though. Apologies for that. **

**We're nearing the end here, as you can see. It's going to be magnificent. Enjoy and I'll get back to you with the rest someday! Thank you for remaining loyal!**

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

Alycie did not remember going back to the palace. If the guards at the door or the jailkeeper at the front of the prison had said anything to object her swift departure, she had not acknowledged or even noticed it. In her mind the only thing she saw were her brother's flaming eyes and his sharp, cold voice.

When she'd walked all the way back to the palace, she found it was not where she wanted to be at all. A restlessness was emerging from her shock and she turned on her heel and ran off back down to the street, not slowing when she reached it. She instead kept running, practically blind to people passing, darting off into the alleys on the sides of busy streets.

Once there was no more breath left in her lungs and her legs threatened to collapse beneath her, she was forced to stop, staggering numbly to the wall of an alley and sinking to the ground. Without missing a beat, her hands went to her face and she broke down sobbing.

It was dusk by the time she'd calmed enough to return. Why she was returning, she didn't know. She couldn't think straight. The distraction was too much. She'd found her brother, for the first time in months. She'd finally found him. Why was she not happy to know he was at least safe?

"He's the enemy..." she muttered. This was an undeniable truth now. The way he'd looked at her...He was a high-ranking officer in the Emperor's army. He had killed innocents. He would kill more. Like tonight--

"Tonight," Alycie gasped, the present rushing back to her. This was bigger than just her now. They were sacrificing more slaves to Helgrind. And Meliana....

The kitchen door opened with a slam, bouncing against the wall it was hinged to as Alycie lurched inside, sprinting up the hallway with darting eyes. No Meliana was there to be seen. She quickened her run, sliding on the marble floor as she rounded a corner and took off down another hallway. The door to the servant's quarters was up ahead. She skidded to a stop and wrenched open the door, halting once she was inside.

A few of the beds were occupied, but Meliana was not present. Alycie walked to a bunk and shoved the unconscious body into a rude awakening.

"Where's Meliana?" she demanded.

"Are you out of your head? I've been up all night!" groaned the occupant. Alycie gave them another shove.

"Where is she!?"

"Hell if I know! I been sleepin!"

"Listen up! You tell me where she's gone or--"

"The governor called her aside to talk, wench, now let us in peace!" snapped an elderly slave from his bunk a ways away. Alycie let go of the unwilling servant and dashed once more out of the door.

None of the servants were in the hallway. Either they'd been in the kitchen, the quarters, or the dining hall where the governor and his most recent wife were holding supper. Alycie had glanced in there long enough to confirm the absence of whom she sought. So they must have already taken her...

As she quit the palace without a dubious thought as to duty, she noted Donnel's absence as well. And then she remembered the other part of the note....

_"They are new, you see, and have too much rebellion in their blood for effective service."_

The dark grounds fell away under her feet as she ran, already breathless from before, but fueled by determination. A rush of déjà vu flooded her, and she realized she'd traveled this path before. Once upon a time when she'd made the dash for freedom. She remembered the light of hope at the end of the tunnel, the joy of leaving with her brother, the absolute liberation of feeling the strings of attachment sever.

Now she felt nothing but panic.

The streets of Dras-Leona were, for the most part, empty since night had fully descended. A few torches in the doorways of inns and pubs were ignited, beckoning those late-night wanderers into the welcoming and inviting companies within.

The church was an exception. The worshippers of Helgrind never were ones for light, and they performed their eerie tasks in the shadows as gleefully as a child in the sun, chanting in their strange language in time to a suspiciously gut-wrenching hacking sound. Alycie passed their open door quickly, but could not stop herself from looking inside. She did not know where Helgrind sacrifices were brought, but the Church of Helgrind did seem like an appropriate place. She felt her insides sicken at the sight and wrenched her eyes away, crossing into the shadows of the other side of the street.

Just as he had said. Fourteen men at the gate. There they stood, two slaves bound and held between them, a third bound by loose rope and held to the side by a lesser guard than the two formers. Alycie watched them from the narrow alleyway, her anger and desperation accelerating her thought process as she tried to catch their words.

"--tain's orders. You lot take that spitfire once the other guards catch her and make sure she carries the load out to the mountain, and the five of us do the same with this'un. Then these two just take this'un here back up to headquarters."

"An' when did the Captain make _you_ such a one as to be givin' us the orders?" asked another guard, skeptical. Alycie frowned. It wasn't normal for a single soldier to be given orders to command the rest.

"Let's just say I gave a bit of valuable information that brought me a nice reward," came the smug reply. Alycie felt a tug at her memory. The voice...the voice was familiar...

"You bastard!" shouted Meliana suddenly, almost shrieking. Alycie was surprised. She'd never heard Meliana swear before...or speak with such malice... "You would rat out a fellow rebel like yourself at the first sign of a sparkle, wouldn't you! She stuck out her neck for you and you repay her like this? You betray her for greed and cowardice!" A slap from the leading officer silenced her, and Alycie felt her anger mount.

Strategy forgotten, she looked around wildly for something, anything, to attack them with. No boards, just barrels...no metal, just hinges...no rocks, just pebbles and dust...

And then the flicker of flame caught her eye and she seized it without thinking, setting it to the first barrel she topped to the side and kicking it swiftly towards the group. She saw the leading officer turn in surprise as the heat met his legs, his eyes widen as the barrel made contact with the backs of his knees, his mouth widen in shock as he toppled backwards to the cobblestones. In the light of the fire, Alycie made out his face just before a sickening crack marked his head meeting the street.

It was Donnel.

And then the barrel exploded.

Fire rained down upon the street and rooftops as Alycie ducked out from the alley and ran forward to where the bodies lay sprawled. Taking care to run over Donnel's ribs, crushing them, she searched frantically amongst the fallen crowd for Meliana. A guard raised his head slowly and reached out a hand, grabbing her ankle. Alycie brough the torch down on his unguarded head, causing him to fall back unconscious. Meliana lay under the body of another soldier. Alycie kicked the dead weight off of her friend and dropped to her knees, pulling the girl up.

"Meliana...wake up...wake up!" She shook her frantically. The girl opened her eyes, coughing through blackened lips.

"What...what was that?"

"I'm sorry, it was the only thing I could think of...I didn't fully consider..." Alycie stopped her excuses, eyes hardening. "You need to get somewhere safe. Don't got back to the palace. The governor turned you over to the soldiers. Go to the lake, and find a boat. Any boat. I don't care if you have qualms about stealing, it's important! Cross the lake to Belatona and stay there. Don't tell them you're a slave. I know you hate lying, but...this is important!" She got to her feet and hauled Meliana up woozily, pushing her off into an alley. "Go...GO!"

"Alycie," said Meliana, stable now on her own two feet. The blast had not hit her badly, and she'd overcome the shock now with a seriousness Alycie would not have expected of her in a crisis. She held her friend's gaze until the impatience became all to much and Alycie shouted for her to leave once again. Meliana smiled once, turned on her heel, and disappeared into the alley.

This left Alycie alone with eight recovering soldiers, a dead Donnel, and injured slaves. The other soldiers were unconscious, but Alycie did not waste thoughts on them. Instead she set to work tracing the torch she still held in her hand across the huge gate set into the wall, dropping the flame to a few bodies and then turning to run back to the barrels for further ammunition.

A guard managed to get to his feet then, and he leapt at her from behind, sending her sprawling, the torch rolling out of reach. Alycie lifted herself on scraped palms, turned her head, and extended a hand, shouting.

"_Jierda_!" The man collapsed where he'd been getting back to his feet with a cry of agony, holding his center as blood began to froth from his mouth. Alycie scrambled to her feet, grabbing up the torch and running with it.

The dry wood of Dras-Leonan dwellings welcomed the flame and they were soon ablaze and spreading in their tight-knit formations until every roof was alight with the inferno.

People screamed as they fled their houses, rushing for the gates into the suburbs. The bodies lying there sent up more screams and people clawed at the wood of the gate to get the barrier open. Others ran to the lake, exiting the gate there, which had been opened at the first sign of flames, and people had gone so far as to leap into the water to escape the wildfire.

Alycie felt the smoke beginning to choke her now, but she kept about her mission, eventually tossing the burnt stub of the torch into a blazing inn and turning about to make her escape. A body stood there blocking it, however, and two blazing eyes met her own, filled with the same fire that destroyed the city around them.

"Have you gone mad!?" shouted the man.

"No more so than you, _Captain_!" retorted Alycie, attempting to stride past him. A gloved hand caught her arm in a steely grip and turned her to face him.

For a moment they stared at each other in defiance and anger, but then his eyes lost some of the shadow within them and he pulled her into his chest, holding her there in a crushing grip. Alycie put her own hands around him as well and cried again, her tears from both the smoke and her breaking heart dampening his shoulder. The strong grip forced their separation then after a moment and Alycie saw the pained, strained look back in her brother's face.

"I thought when I next saw you it would be as your executioner. But now I see that can never happen, no matter how loyal I am to the Empire. I made a promise to myself to keep you safe, long ago, and I'll not be forsaking it!"

"If you wish to help me then quickly, Garrick, tell me, What do you know of the upcoming battle?"

The houses around them burned incessantly, occasionally punctuated by an explosion. Garrick pulled Alycie aside into the shelter of the stone wall of the Helgrind church as he looked back at her in seriousness.

"It is my first mission as Captain, Alycie," he said, solemn. There was no regret in his words, but he spoke them with full knowledge of their seriousness. "We march south to Surda in the morning to take up arms against the Varden. They will fall, Alycie. At the points of our swords and at the expense of our magic, they will be crushed."

"Can you not call them off?" demanded Alycie. Garrick let out a high cold laugh.

"Do you think Galbatorix so easily swayed? Or that new toy of his? Loyal as I am to you, my allegiance is with the Empire, Alycie, and it is against my morals as well." Alycie felt a sinking dread at his words. He held her gaze. "But, if you were to want to warn them, I would ride out this night. The black armies travel fast over their homelands, but a lone scout may cover the distance in half the time it takes them. Do what you must, I'll not stop you, but if you should cross our path, I know there is nothing I could do to save you."

His intensity had longing in it now, and the hands he gripped on her shoulders were beginning to pain her. Alycie nodded at his words, and drew him close a last time. He shoved her away and threw out an arm towards a thin passage between two burning buildings in the row opposite.

"Go! The dry road will do you no good! Go by the lake and I can attempt to guard your path!"

Alycie broke her eyes from his and ran between the flaming walls, taking off down the street towards the western gate.

"Alycie!" came a low yell. She looked around for the source and saw a figure sprinting along the tops of the wall that enclosed the inner city. Her heart leapt as she recognized the dark skin against the orange glow of the fire.

"Elian!" she shouted back. The figure stopped running and lay down, extending down an arm. Alycie diverted her course towards him, spotting a few barrels as of yet unexploded lying where the wall met the street. She climbed on them precariously and seized his hand, pulling herself up as he lifted with all his strength, closing his other arm around her waist and hauling her up the last of the way.

Without setting her down, Elian leapt off of the wall with his arm still securely around her waist, carrying her off then through the surrounding suburbs until they hit the lake. The boats were all taken, but a small rowboat with a woman in it caught their eye and they wasted no time in hijacking it, leaving the woman treading water with the rest of the town while they rowed off into the darkness.

Alycie watched the firey glow on the horizon that had once been her home until it was just a distant orange smudge between the black of the water and sky. Elian watched it as well, rowing back with his strong arms in silence. Once the screams had faded out of earshot, he diverted his attention to Alycie.

"Back to Urû'baen then?" he asked. "We still haven't gotten the egg."

"No," said Alycie, tearing her gaze from the flaming city. "No, that will have to wait. We have to go South."

"Why?" asked Elian. Alycie coughed, the smoke lingering in her lungs, and looked at him.

"They're going to attack the Varden at Surda."


	29. The Reflection and the Refraction

**Don't own **_**Eldest**_

**I like this chapter. Just because it was for the most part already written out already in a previous chapter and I didn't have to keep up cause-and-reaction thoughts outside of the internal reflection parts. Hope you enjoy it.**

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

The footsteps of ten thousand men crossing the plains could have been an avalanche, it carried so much the same thunder of impending destruction. The sky above them was streaked with long sand-and-rose clouds that glowed with the warmth of the late day. The ebony of their armor had been smudged charcoal from the Burning of Dras-Leona, and their faces heavily dirtied with soot to match. They had set out the morning after the crisis, once the flames had all died down, leaving the boisterous city only a shadow of its old self. The people had appealed to them for help collecting the dead and rescuing those trapped inside collapsed houses, but the troops had their orders, and they cleared out without a backwards glance.

If any of the soldiers felt an individual guilt for their decision, they did not put voice to it. All marched in silence, eyes trained on their mounted leader at the forefront of the column. He rode alone, with the battalion at his back, his eyes on the horizon and his thoughts in the west, drifting down the Jiet with one close to his heart. The same heart that was torn.

He had lived too long in the smothering grip of the Empire, he saw now. The same liberation and ease that had come to him with the military now turned against him in his questioning hour, making him feel a fool for being so easily manipulated. Of course he couldn't stop them. The wheels were turning and the machine was in motion, unstoppable at this point. And of course he was a part of it, one of the many cogs turning in sync with those around it. He would fight, and probably die, for the Empire, he saw now. And there was not a damn thing he could do about it. They had him body and soul as securely as if they'd bound him with chains made by the very Gods above. But he was awakened, and that was enough of a release to make him feel free as a bird. It was a strange feeling, one of a man who, trapped between the tyrant and the cliff, chose the cliff as the lesser of two evils.

Now the black armor, streaked as it was with the white ash of the city of his past, weighed heavier on his shoulders than it ever had before, and he found the heat of the inside almost unbearable, confining and suffocating. _Encased in metal_, he thought wryly, _now I truly am a gear of war..._. He looked down at the sword that hang at his side, free of a sheathe that had been lost in the chaos of leaving. It sparkled in the sun, a pure shining silver, but he saw it in a different, darker light now. As he watched it, blood seeped from the hilt, dripping down the blade and drying into a thick crust that then turned to dust and fell away, leaving only the color to stain the steel. It was not truly so, he knew, but it might as well have been. Seeing his sister again had lifted the bloodlust veil from his eyes and brought him back to the truth of things. A harbinger of evils across Alagaësia, and blind to his own actions. Well, he wasn't blind anymore. Nor was he deaf to the screams that had so far escaped his notice under the smooth swish of his blade. And yet he was dumb, mouth stitched shut with iron fixings that not even the strongest willpower could release.

Garrick's metal-coated fingers tightened on the leather reins of his apocalyptic steed. He could feel the doctrine of the Empire pressing in upon his rebellious thoughts even as he rode, quelling them with thoughts of the greater good and improvements they'd wrought so far. He could not deny the good that had come of their campaigns. He'd seen warring towns quell and become peaceful at the hands of the Empire, seen harmony, and even progress throughout the land. Was he being manipulated? Or was he fighting for a cause that was in his interests as well? Something flickered behind his distant eyes as conflict broke out behind the complacent facade. And had he not personally excelled as well? He had come from nothing, had grown throughout his life as nothing, and yet here he rode, leader of ten thousand men he had once been equal to. Now he was above them. His actions had purpose, and did not simply perish in the quick passage of time. What he did and made now....it would last.

He fought for the Empire, he fought for himself, and he fought for his sister...with what he could achieve, they could be reunited in a peaceful Empire. And if he achieved further greatness, he might be able to gain influence enough to pardon her war crimes and gain her acceptance under Galbatorix's rule. She had always been adaptable, she would not remain such a rebel, he was sure. The burning at Dras-Leona, that had been personal. He felt grateful she'd actually done it. Seeing the town that had held so many miserable times for them, that had kept them apart, burn to the ground had appeased his unsatisfied will for vengeance. The night had been one of his happiest. He and Alycie had stood together, had embraced, and had watched the horrors of their childhood go down in flames.

A shrieking, unearthly roar pierced the low thunder and peace of the plains and Garrick held a hand into the air, halting the company as a flash of red swooped in front of the sun in a jet like dive out of the sky. Immediately the Captain's thoughts were in the here and now, his sword drawn, and his old irritation back in place, borderline fury. The great ruby hell sent lizard landed on all fours before him, making his horse leap and buck. Garrick calmed him with a few jerks of the reins as he turned his helmeted head to face the Rider's as the man dismounted his demonic steed and began a slow approach, his walk strong and deliberate. The sun was blocked from sight by the great silhouette of the horned creature, and the ground around it danced with gem-red reflected lights from its scales.

"What is your business, Rider?" demanded Garrick, his voice strong and steady. Almost derisive.

"My business is the king's," replied the Rider coolly. Garrick knew exactly what was coming, but he refused to bow before this man.

"As is mine," he replied, gesturing with his blade at the large dragon, "and you are hindering it! Now move your dragon!"

"The king has requested that you return to Urû'baen. he has a job for you." The voice was dead, almost bored, yet it still held an authoritative tone.

"Who is to lead the army, then?"

"I have orders to do so."

"You? You've been locked in the palace for the past half of this year and you suddenly think you can emerge as the great leader of an army?" Garrick's irritation had indeed escalated now. Why should this nobleman suddenly spring so easily into a position it had taken a year for him to attain? A traitor even. If he was a weapon, let him be used as such. Cannons, after all, do not fire the soldiers.

"The king seems to think so," the Rider replied. Garrick shook his head, raising his sword.

"The king be damned!" he shouted, kicking his horse's sides. The black horse galloped forward, whinnying at the sudden effort. Garrick's teeth were bared behind his metal mask. The Rider made no move to step aside out of the horse's path. He looked almost bored at the turn of events. A single metal hand raised as the red dragon let out a reptilian roar and Garrick heard one word.

_"Jierda."_

Without so much as a crunching noise, Garrick felt six of his ribs sever within his chest as though the dragon had flown at him suddenly with full force and rammed into it with its head. With a choked cry, he fell back off of his horse and hit the dusty ground, sprawled out as the pain threatened to crush him. He reached up shakily, numbly, and managed to unfasten his helmet, rolling it away as he rolled onto one arm, coughing. He opened his eyes to see streaks of blood and tasted the iron tang in his mouth. Footsteps caught his attention then and he looked past the blood to see the metal-sheathed legs of the Rider before him. The knees bent as the Rider crouched to his level, looking at him piteously, almost smug. Garrick could see two glints behind the slits in the mask, and he saw the man was staring at him unblinkingly.

"You are a bold man," he said in his deep voice, deadly serious,"but foolishly rash. Cross me again in future and I will waste no time in killing you where you stand. Do you understand me?"

"Not sure I do," muttered Garrick, clutching at his ribs and coughing into the ground once more. Something unbreakable inside him would not let him submit to this man. Any other authority figure he would have stood out of the way for, but not this man. No. He watched as the Rider's head tilted to one side.

"Look at me when you speak, Captain," he said adamantly. An order. Reluctantly, Garrick met the two glints of eyes with his own gaze, licking at the blood that continued to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

"Not sure I _do_ understand you, _Sir_," he repeated loudly and slowly. The Rider snorted and shook his head.

"You must have a death wish."

"So I hear," Garrick goaded, smirking grimly. The Rider was on his feet in a second, staring down at him as though about to smash his heel down on the Captain's weak chest. Garrick stiffened, bracing for pain. But the tall man did not move, seeming almost paralyzed. For a long time they stared each other down, and soon Garrick realized that the heavy breathing he heard was not just his own.

"Stop...Stop looking with those...with those eyes..." The Rider muttered, strained. Garrick's eyes narrowed in sudden complete confusion.

"What? Would you like me to use my spares?" he asked, incredulous. As he watched, the Rider put a hand to his head and walked away, muttering inaudibly, pacing in disjointed patterns. Garrick's brow furrowed as he attempted to sit up, bracing himself on an elbow and wincing as his whole torso shot with pain. The Rider seemed suddenly lost, or mad, uncertain whether to return to his dragon or walk off away from the soldiers.

Then without warning, the Rider turned on his heel and dove at Garrick in a move too fast to anticipate and his sharp metal fist collided with Garrick's exposed face, knocking him back onto his back, his head hitting the hard dusty ground. He felt warm blood begin to course down his face as the metal fist impacted again, and again. The spiked knuckles tore at Garrick's skin, and the blunt force behind it smashed his skull against the compact dirt.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the blows stopped coming and Garrick faintly heard retreating footsteps.

"You'll follow me now! You three take him to Urû'baen. Keep him alive. The rest of you, keep up!"

A faint swoosh, some nearing voices of the assigned soldiers, and then the thunder began to shake the ground on which Garrick lay, and he soon fell unconscious to its rhythm.


	30. The Doubt and the Demand

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Eldest**_**.**

…**Give thanks, friends, and especially thank xXFallenSakuraXx52 for spurring me on. It's not that ground-covering of a chapter, but it does give a little more solidity and depth that I've been lacking. So yeah, helped me straighten things out, and now OFF TO BATTLE!**

**Happy Thanksgiving**

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

The night was silent. Only the slight wind made a sound apart from the slosh of the boat as it ran up the bank. Alycie pulled at the bow while Elian pushed from the water, letting the vessel stop once it reached the brush. Alycie sat back on the grass, leaning back on her hands and looking out over the river. Elian emerged from the water and flopped down beside her, propping his arms under his head and crossing his ankles. Alycie looked at him.

"If we set out at dawn we can reach the Varden by tomorrow," she said. Elian nodded, closing his eyes. Alycie looked back at the water. "We can warn them." Elian shifted slightly, and Alycie saw his eyes were open once more.

"Why are the Varden in Surda? I mean...I thought they were in the Beors."

Alycie didn't speak. A thread of panic briefly ran through her, but she pushed it away.

"I suppose...I suppose since the battle...I mean..." Alycie struggled for a response. Then something flickered in her memory, and she put a hand to her forehead, groaning. "The Twins..."

"What?"

"Of course, the Twins would have told Galbatorix where the Varden were hiding...Farthen Dûr wouldn't be safe anymore after that..." Alycie drifted into silence. Elian sat up abruptly, making her jump.

"Then how do we know where they are?" he demanded. Alycie opened her mouth, then stopped, suddenly sheepish. Elian read it in her face. "We _don't_ know where they are..."

"If we keep to the river, we'll probably run across--"

"Surda is a whole new land, Alycie, have you ever been there?"

"Well, no, but--"

"They could be anywhere!"

"Just give me a second..." Alycie brought her knees to her chest, studying her feet contemplatively. She had to know where they'd gone...she'd lived with them for weeks. Surely she knew...

"We came all this way for nothing," muttered Elian. Alycie frowned at him.

"Oh we've accomplished quite a lot, I'd say," she remarked. "You've been exiled from the desert, we've become renowned criminals, I've stopped having visions, we broke into Urû'baen, I burnt down my hometown, and now we've rowed all the way down to the Surdan border where our criminal status is celebrated."

Elian kneaded his fist into the soft earth unenthusiastically.

"So in all of your visions, did you not once see anything about a huge battle?" he asked finally. Alycie shook her head, but then stopped. A fragment of a fragment of a memory floated back to her, through her lips.

"_It fights the first on plains of hell..._"

"What?"

"The Burning Plains..."

"Is that where--"

"Hang on..." Alycie changed positions, sitting cross-legged with a finger to the dirt, writing out the words as she mouthed them. What was the rest of the poem?

"So you have seen something?" asked Elian, crossing his legs as well and looking at what she was doing. Alycie shushed him and closed her eyes.

"_A ghost it seems_

_In armor clad_

_Is chained to one_

_Who is but mad_

_With shining blade_

_And palm as well_

_It fights the first_

_On plains of hell_"

She looked up, and saw Elian staring at her slack-jawed. He closed his mouth and shrugged.

"Well, that's wonderful. What does it mean?" Alycie licked her lips, thinking hard.

"It means the Rider is going to fight," she said after a moment.

"How do you know?"

"It said an armored ghost with the shining palm is going to fight..._chained to one_...a Rider under the control of Galbatorix. One who is thought to be dead." Alycie felt a pang, and she bit her lip, staring hard at the water. "Murtagh is going to fight."

Elian was silent for a minute. Neither he nor Alycie spoke for a time, both looking out at the water. Elian sighed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"No."

"When the time comes, will you be able to face him?"

Elian looked at her, but Alycie's face was resolute, staring determinedly at the rushing current. He went on.

"What do you think will happen if you meet him on the battlefield, Alycie?" he asked. "Do you think he'll sweep you up in his arms and kiss you? Do you think he'll renounce the Empire and fly off to the sea with you on his dragon? Do you think he will show _any_ mercy--"

"I don't know," said Alycie quietly. Elian stared at her with hard eyes.

"He will be ruthless. In war, everyone is. He will kill the Varden, and perhaps Eragon. And what will you do?"

"I don't..."

"If the Empire wins and you are left alive, what will you do?"

Alycie didn't answer. Elian put a hand to his forehead, anger threatening to burst out of him. He turned to her.

"So that's it, then. That's as far as your devotion goes. You don't care about the world at all; just yourself. If Eragon should be killed and the Varden fall, you won't care as long as you have your Rider. You have no allegiance except to him, do you?" Elian moved so that he was in front of her. She tried to look away, but he caught her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. "_Do_ you?"

Alycie looked at him with a dead gaze. She opened her mouth slowly, and her words quivered as she spoke.

"What else is there for me?"

Elian let go of her face, getting to his feet. He looked down at her miserable form, feeling his blood rise like lava.

"I thought you were strong," he said, voice controlled. "I thought you were a revolutionary. I thought you cared about your people, about how they suffered. But you only care about his suffering--no, your own suffering. You're not sacrificing yourself for his sake, anymore, this is to quell the misery of your own heart."

Alycie got to her feet, her eyes locked with Elian's. She raised her hands slowly, and punched them against his chest, sending him flying into the water. He shook his head, spluttering, and glared up at her. She pointed a finger at him.

"Don't think you know me so well, Elian," she said in a voice he had not yet heard. This was not Alycie's voice of anguish, or her voice of warning. This was a new voice...more real than any of the others he'd heard. Truer. She stared at him with a deadlock gaze, no longer gray and emotionless, but one fueled by an inner fire that burned more blue than red. "I'd like to make a few things clear to you before we go any further with this.

"I was born into slavery. So was he. We grew up with no one to care for us. I had my brother, but he was often gone. He had his mother, but she too was gone. We were both eventually separated from these people. When I met him, I was free for the first time in my life. So was he. He'd run away, as I had, though he had a better understanding of the world. Traveling with him, I saw that he was still held by chains he could not break. I had broken mine, and wanted to break his as well. We had both suffered, at great length, and I couldn't leave him captive where I was free. I understood his pain, and I accepted him as he was. And this is how we fell in love.

"I don't hold allegiance to anyone, contrary to what you've been led to believe. Allegiance is just another form of slavery as I see it. So know that I will never work for anyone other than myself. And as for 'my people,' as you call it, 'my people' are not the citizens of Alagaësia. My people are the enslaved. Murtagh is one of the enslaved, and so I remain loyal to him. I won't stand for slavery in any way, shape, or form, and so I work for freedom wherever I see it needed. This is what drives me.

"As for what you've asked of me, what I will do in this war, I don't know. I will fight on the side of the Varden because it means the downfall of Galbatorix. However, if the Varden should fall, I will not stay and fight for fallen comrades. I fight for those who struggle, not those who are already freed or lost. The free make their own way, and the lost drown in it. But the struggling need a light to guide them to freedom, and I will not let them become lost.

"Now, Elian, that you have heard my reasoning, what will _you_ do in this battle? Will you stay with the Varden and subject yourself to whatever battle plans and twisted political webs they create, or will you remain free, and work away from the power struggles and corruption?"

Alycie turned and started walking away without hearing an answer. Elian stood, stepping onto the bank and walking quickly towards her. He seized her shoulder and turned her around, holding her still.

"I fight with you," he said," wherever you go." And he pressed his lips to hers roughly. Alycie did nothing to fight it. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he pulled her close.


End file.
